


PTR Arachnid 24601 - HYDRA!Peter AU

by justanoodle



Series: Life may be shit, but... no, it's just shit. [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gore, Hydra, Hydra!Peter, I Tried, I mashed three movies together to make this AU, I'm sorry for putting you through pain, I'm sorry if it sucks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Gets Better, Jealousy, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, The Amazing Spider-Man 1, Tom Holland's Spider-Man movies, WinterSpider comes later, confused feelings, discovering stuff, he gets hurt more because we like putting him through pain, he's been hurt enough, like please be careful, mature language, much later, no he hasn't, platonic, probs some soft thirsting, the amazing spider-man 2 - Freeform, the dawning of the big gay, then whoops no it isn't, there are so many warnings, uh oh there goes a few bodies, you might cry idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 40
Words: 166,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanoodle/pseuds/justanoodle
Summary: Peter Parker, known as PTR Arachnid 24601, grew up in HYDRA. Grew. Up. He's been there since he was 2. Stolen from his parents and experimented on, Peter became an enhanced human assassin. He has spider-like abilities. Peter never knew about the real world and honestly, never thought he'd see anything other than this HYDRA base and his missions. But one day, the base gets attacked and the spider has a chance of seeing the real world. And maybe reunite with an old friend...?I made this story because there aren't enough WinterSpider ones on Wattpad but I put it here too. My Wattpad is @DangerNoodleDeku[All of these amazing characters belong to Marvel and Disney. The only thing that's mine is the plot/story].
Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Peter Parker, HawkSilver (minor), Michelle Jones/Shuri, Michuri (minor), Ned Leeds x Betty Brant (minor), Peter Parker x Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy, Steve Rogers X Tony Stark, Stony, WandaVision (minor), WinterSpider - Relationship, petergwen
Series: Life may be shit, but... no, it's just shit. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886686
Comments: 51
Kudos: 148





	1. Author Note - PLEASE READ

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ or you might be confused later.
> 
> ...My Wattpad is @DangerNoodleDeku and you can find the same story there.

Hello! Swindle here (my nickname, don't ask).

Thanks for choosing my fic to read. Hopefully I don't let you down. I have to give you some warnings though, sorry. (With great power comes great responsibility right)?

Alright, I'm not sure where this fic is headed, but I'll give you some warnings anyway.

Mature language, mentions of rape, actual rape, abuse, probably some gore, mentions of suicide and self-harm, depression, and probably some other things.

Read at your own risk.

Please do not blame me if anything happens to you when you read this. You have been warned and it is your choice to continue reading this fic. It is not my responsibility because I have no control over your actions. Please make good choices and keep yourself safe, I do not want anything happening to you. Thank you.

I'm not 100% sure what ships to use. But I'll definetly have Stony and WinterSpider. Possibly some HawkSilver too. Implied WandaVision. If you don't like those ships, please be respectful and leave. There is no need to write hateful comments or put someone down because of who they ship. I want people to be happy when reading this (despite the whole HYDRA thing). So, if you disagree, just leave. No one is making you read this. Thank you.

I will most likely be including canon things in this fic. However, these things will be altered to fit Peter's missions/life at HYDRA. (Like the building & Vulture incident).

Along with the previous statement, I'm also including Andrew Garfield's adaptation of The Amazing Spider-Man. I'll include Gwen Stacy, Dr. Connors/Lizard, Harry Osborn, and a few events.

I have given Peter two additional powers: Venemous teeth on command and one that's a surprise for later. I made his webbing natural. And I also made him extremely observant for a few reasons. 1) Assassins are supposed to be very observant. 2) With his enhanced hearing and stuff, Peter could probably hear heartbeats. Which means it's easier to tell how someone is feeling. His sight is also better so he could probably see things in better detail, making him more observant. 3) He's smart in general so I think learning how to be/being naturally observant is as easy as learning a math equation for him.

For the sake of this fanfic, there are two things I'd like to mention. 1) Clint doesn't have a wife and kids. Just imagine his wife being a sister-in-law or something. And his kids could be nieces/nephews. 2) There is not a big age-gap between Peter and Bucky. (Not talking about the 104 years, I'm talking about the frozen wake-up age). I don't know what to make up so that there is a smaller age gap. Just be creative and imagine there's a small age gap magically. If you don't mind the current age gap, then that's fine too. Whatever floats your boat. Okay? Thanks.

The timeline has been slightly altered so don't mind that. (Winter Soldier left HYDRA just a few years prior to canon). This takes place about two years after Civil War. But Civil War DID NOT happen, it's just two years after when it would. They peacefully talked it out signed a new set of accords. Everybody who was in Civil War (minus Spidey) is an Avenger (Scott, Pietro, Wanda, etc...). Tony and Steve got married (yay plot). No major plot points happen, unless they have been altered to fit Peter's HYDRA experience.

Asgard still exists (even though Ragnarok happened so that's fun). Odin died so Thor now rules it with Loki as his second in command.

The summary was kind of crappy but I'm not good at summaries so bear with me, okay? And my writing isn't too great so... Yeah.

Thank you for (hopefully) reading this Author Note.

Let the adventure begin...

-Swindle


	2. Ch 1-My name is PTR Arachnid 24601

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who am I?

**(Peter's POV)**

My name is PTR Arachnid 24601.

You might be asking, ' _What about your real name_ '? I don't have one. The Men say that real names are a privilege. Not for freaks like me. They have real names. But they don't tell me their real names. I'm not really allowed to talk to them unless they talk to me first or ask a question. If I do, I get punished or I punish myself. The Men used to just call me 'Arachnid' for short, but now they call me 'Winter Spider'. I hate those names.

I'm 15 years old.

I grew up in this HYDRA base. Yes, grew up. I've been here since I was two years old. These white-washed walls and cold tile floors have been my entire life. Oh and the dirt floor of my cell, of course. The Men say my parents hated me and sold me to HYDRA. I believe them. If my parents loved me then they wouldn't have sold me. A part of me, deep down inside, tells me that's not true. I know better than to listen to that part. Last time I told one of the Men that my parents must've loved me, I got punished very badly. I couldn't walk for a long time. At this point, I don't mind being in HYDRA. Growing up here is hell but it's all I've known. If I were in the real world, I wouldn't know how to act. The Men say the real world is different from this base. I'm sort of happy to be here. Sure it's hell, but it's my hell. I don't know what normal people do. I don't know how to be a kid or a teenager. I don't know what a normal childhood is. The only normal thing to me is this. The killing, torture, schooling, fighting, and... Other activities. I feel bad for what I do here and it haunts me. I don't want to do the things I do, but I don't know what I would do if I escaped. I'd be lost. So I stay. I know my place in the world and I take it. No matter how awful I feel about it.

On the topic of the real world. I've never really been there. I've been outside on missions many times and stuff. But I've never been in a city. Or civilization. One time, I saw a city and it was pretty, but I was too far to really see it. Whenever I'm outside for a mission, I'm in the wilderness or an abandoned town. Or something. Never a city. The last mission I had was to capture a man named the 'Vulture'. He was stealing a man named Mr. Stark's things outside of New York (I think that's the name of the place). We were in the middle of nowhere and there was a warehouse and a plane traveling overhead. Vulture trapped me underneath the warehouse. I was stuck under tonnes of cement building. It was the first time I had a breakdown on a mission. I caught him but I have a fear called 'Claustrophobia' now. I also got punished badly. I'm due for a mission recruiting this beast named 'Lizard' but I don't know where that'll be. The Men wipe scenery of missions from my mind. They keep the fighting in there though.

I have a suit that I wear for missions. It's all-black and a sort of spandex material. There are white half circles for the eyes– they dial my sight down so my enhanced vision doesn't hurt me. On the front, the HYDRA logo is painted in red and white. On the back, a red spider sits between my shoulder blades. I like the mask because then the Men don't have to see my mixed expressions–no emotions allowed–even if it gets hard to breathe sometimes.

When I got to this place, they experimented on me. I remember it being torture. They would inject needles on different parts of my body while I was strapped to a table. My skin would feel like it was on fire and my wrists felt like they were splitting open. My eyes would blur and my ears would ring at an unimaginable volume. Apparently, my dad was a scientist working with cross-species genetics. When I was sold here, the Men also got his research. They used that to experiment on me. They tried fusing my DNA with that of a spider's. It worked. Now, half of my DNA is spider DNA. When I was four years old, I got... Abilities from all this experimenting. I can see and hear so much better. My reflexes are insane. I can stick to walls and ceilings like a spider. My wrists shoot natural webbing that's incredibly strong and sticky. Even my teeth are venomous and deadly (on command though). I'm very strong and can lift a warehouse–yes, it has been proven. My speed, flexibility, and agility are on point. I even have enhanced healing and a higher metabolism rate. I got a sort of sixth sense. It senses danger. Like if there's a dangerous person near or if something dangerous is flying towards me. It can help me move out of the way of said dangerous thing. I call it my 'Spider Sense'.

I'm the Men's favourite. That's what they say. They say they're nice to me and that I'm lucky. They say they give me lots of food, despite it being one meal a day of just half a loaf of bread and a water bottle every two days. I'm always starving because of my high metabolism rate. They say I get 'special treatment'. They say my cell is bigger. They say all these things but I still can't help but wonder if I'm really that lucky? I guess I feel sort of lucky though, compared to the other kids here.

Hygiene is surprisingly good here. We, or at least I, get to bathe every two to three days, depending on how bloodied my clothes get. I get to bathe for a maximum of 10 minutes, so it's not bad. Every time I bathe, they give me a new outfit and I'm thankful for that. Unless my outfit is fine though. Speaking of clothes, the basic outfit here is just a t-shirt and shorts or baggy pants. In bland colours. Nothing special. Anyway, we get to brush our teeth and wash our faces after we bathe too. If my injuries are super drastic then the Men will put me in the Med Wing but that's only happened a few times when I've been exceptionally injured and close to death.

I'm apparently really smart. There are two hours a day of schooling. Sometimes it's worksheets. Usually it's verbal drilling. But I'm always in a room and strapped to a chair. If it's verbal drilling, one of the Men will be standing in front of me. He'll drill me on many things, from math to English and everything in between. I get language lessons too. I'm fluent in English, German, and Russian. But I'm able to hold a conversation in French, Danish, and sort-of Italian (I fumble the last one a lot). I also know a few phrases/commands in Japanese. If I don't get a question right, I'll be cut on the stomach with a very sharp knife. It doesn't hurt too much anymore because I'm used to it. When it's worksheets, I'll be strapped to a table and chair. One of the Men will be in the room and I'll have to complete each question in two minutes.

I can read people very easily. This is another reason why I'm smart and the Men's favourite. After a few minutes of talking or even observing, I can read a person like a book. I can find out their secrets and flaws. I can discover if they're hiding weapons. I know how they feel. I don't know how or why I can do this. I just notice things that no one else seems to. The Men congratulate me on this yet I feel like I shouldn't be doing this. I try not to when it's unnecessary. It's like a switch because I can turn the 'mode' on and off as I please.

There's daily torture. It lasts only an hour. Sometimes it's needles that inject a weird serum that makes my flesh burn. Sometimes it's a whip. Sometimes I almost drown. Sometimes I'm surrounded by fire. But sometimes, they do something really weird. A Man will blindfold and (sometimes but not always) gag me. He'll take my clothes off. And I'll feel something push into my stomach. It burns and I writhe around because of the uncomfortableness. The Man will move himself in and out of me. He'll touch me in weird places and it makes me want to cry and scream. I stop my whimpers the best I can. This punishment I think is one of their favourites.

One day, they found out about my Claustrophobia so they use that to torture me too. They only use it once in awhile because they don't want me to get used to the tight box they put me in. Trust me, I don't think I'll get used to it anytime soon. I'm not allowed to scream when I get tortured because it'll just lead to more pain. Whenever I do something remotely disobedient, I get punished. Sometimes I'm hit and punched. Sometimes they use the normal torture methods. Sometimes they take away my food for a few days. It's spontaneous. Sometimes they just leave me to punish myself. When I turned six, they branded me on my stomach. It says 'Hail HYDRA' with the logo. And then when I was twelve, they did it again on the small of my back. It hurt like a bitch. For some reason, the brands never healed. I have so many scars that not even my enhanced healing can get rid of them all. They litter my body. From my legs to my neck, I have slashes and burn marks. I even have one below my eye from a whip with a blade on the end. It never healed. I guess enhanced healing can only do so much, huh?

On the topic of sort-of torture, I have a lot of habits. Ones I wish I don't have. Ones that are subconscious and I can't control. These habits are things like punishing myself. Like if I do something wrong, after they punish me, I'll punish myself. Usually by banging my head against the wall a few times and scolding myself intensely. I have another habit of stating my mission all the time. Whether it's been issued to me or it's a personal one. I'll always say 'Mission; ____' and other things like 'Sub-mission; ____'. I picked these up after I had a chip injected in my neck.

They would stick needles in my neck and inject a pale pink serum a lot. It would hurt so much and I would pass out. I don't know why they did that. I think it was so that I didn't fight them? The Men put a chip in my neck when I was thirteen. I assume that it's a tracker. I'm afraid of needles now.

I get brainwashed often. Not everyday, but a lot. I don't know why they do it. It's not like I have any memories of something before this life. I'm obedient. But after the brainwashing, I feel more... Calm. And more relaxed. When they ask me to do something, I agree more than I normally would. The brainwashing itself hurts. It's the only time they let me scream, but I still try not to. I feel like I'm being ripped limb-by-limb. My mind melts and even my enhanced senses fail me. I usually pass out by the end of it.

On the topic of chips, needles, and brainwashes... When I was around thirteen, they put that chip in my neck. After that, my mind became very foggy. My memories are out of reach, like I can see them but just can't grasp them. I barely remember a man I once knew, including his stories. My mind feels detached from my actions. Habits and things I didn't want to do started to happen against my will. I'm suffocating in my own mind. And when I fight, it's like I black out. Everything would be a lot foggier and my actions turn deadlier. Even my sane mind slips away to watch what I'm doing from afar, leaving the other part of me with the reigns. I'll 'wake up' just to see all the destruction I've done. After the brainwashes and needles, my emotions just feel numb. Like nothing matters and I just exist to be told what to do. I feel so much more... Obedient? Which is true, I guess. It's sort of like the Winter Soldier's arm and activation words (I think that's it). But I don't know where it comes from because the Men don't control it. I can't fight it either. It's like these things are engraved in my brain–no, my DNA. This whole new version of me terrified my sane mind but seemed to please the Men. Whenever I regain a few 'unwanted' memories, my mind will burn like it does during a brainwash. After it's over, the memory is out of reach again and my brain just melts to fog. My sane mind detaches from this new inhumane mind and I can't control myself anymore.

Then there's combat training. I've been doing combat training since I was five. In this base, there are other children. Some are younger and some are older. The Men will put us against each other. I'm a lot stronger so I always win. On most occasions, I'm forced to kill the loser. I'm used to killing people. It's second nature. But a part of me says I shouldn't and I sort of listen to that part. I still kill them, but I always look away. Their terrified faces remind me of my younger self in some way. I can't bear to see someone with the same controlled life as me be killed. We're all trapped here without any say in things, so I feel bad having to fight them. Even after my whole 'blackout fight' thing, some part of me remains human at the last second and I'm thankful for that. When I'm done my daily combat training, I train with knives and guns and other weapons.

I remember one time when I was eleven, I was up against the Winter Soldier. I'd heard about him before. I look(ed) up to him. He's the Men's other favourite. But the Winter Soldier isn't normally in this base. He looked super serious and mean. His face never portrayed emotions. No surprise. We're not allowed to show emotions. I've perfected my own blank look. Mainly to keep the Men from feeling satisfied when they see my sad and painful expressions. We fought for a bit, he was more skilled but I was stronger. Before one of us had killed the other, the Men stopped us. We were confused. The Men dragged us both to the same cell without explanation. The days went by normally, but now we were cell mates. I didn't mind. Sometimes, we'd talk, but it was only a little. One day, an hour before the Winter Soldier's brainwash, he spoke to me. He told me a story. It was about a man named Steve Rogers AKA Captain America. He mentioned he was dead. Despite that, I liked the story and wanted to meet this 'Captain America'. It was funny. He seemed to be really close with this man. I felt bad that Cap was dead. After that, he'd tell me a story every time he got a memory back. When he was with me, it was as though a small part of his old self shone through. He'd tell me about Cap and about these people called the Avengers. They were the world's heroes. They protected the world from people like... People like us. It gave me a sort of hope. If the Avengers came here and killed us, at least we won't be a threat to society, right?

We sort of got closer, Soldier and I. Even though half of the time he was really secluded and quiet from his brainwashing, he was never mean to me. You see, I didn't get brainwashed as much as him because I'm naturally obedient. I think it's because I don't have anything to fight for or any reason to escape. Except maybe finding the Avengers, but that's a lost cause for me. Continuing on... We would talk when he felt up to it and he'd always ask me how I'm doing or tell me a story. If I didn't understand what he was talking about, he'd be patient and explain. When I'd return to our cell with cuts, he'd rip up his clothes and bandage me. He'd talk until I fell asleep or woke me up from a nightmare. He even sometimes gave me some of his food, insisting that he didn't need it. I'd do all these things back at him. I was happy with him. He was the closest person to me. My life wasn't so bad anymore.

Until one day, the Men came and took Winter on a mission. When he got to the door, Winter bid me farewell. He whispered, in a low voice only I could hear, "I'll be back. And I'll get you the hell out of here" It gave me hope. But I was sad he left. He was the only person I considered a sort of friend. I think. He never returned from that mission. I hope he wasn't killed. I hope he was fine. I hope he somehow found Steve if neither of them were actually dead. The Men were angry. It's been four years since I've seen him. Now that I'm fifteen, I've gone through so many brainwashes that I forget what he looks like. But I remember some of the stories. The memories of him sit at the back of my mind, just barely getting through to me. They're the only hope I had of a better world. And I still remember his last words to me. I still pray he comes to get me. Ever since he left, I've put ticks on the wall for each day he's gone. The walls of the cell are covered in scratched-out ticks counting the days.

After he left, I've stopped trusting anyone. Everyone ends up leaving me in the end.

I get nightmares a lot. About people I've killed. About the torture. About missing the Winter Soldier. I usually wake up shaking and crying. But I muffle my sobs in my arms. The Men would kill me if I were crying. And I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me like this. The images of what I've been through haunt me every night and even day. Everything I've done makes me feel terrible.

The Click Clack of the shoes in the corridors scares me. I expect the worst when I hear them. They fill the silent halls and echo loudly. They sound like they shouldn't be there. They make me feel unsafe. They warn me that something bad will happen. My Spidey Sense goes haywire when I hear them, but I ignore it. My inhuman mind starts acting up and my sane mind slips away from control. They haunt my dreams like everything else.

I wish I cared about life.

I wish I knew how to be happy.

I wish I knew how to smile.

I wish I didn't kill so many people.

I wish I weren't alive.

I wish everything wasn't so painful.

I wish that all I felt wasn't pain.

I wish I wasn't afraid of the Click Clack of shoes in the hallways.

I wish I wasn't afraid of needles and serums.

I wish I wasn't afraid of men in black trench coats.

I wish I wasn't afraid of doctors.

I wish I didn't have this weird inhuman mind.

I wish the Winter Soldier was back.

I wish I could trust someone.

I wish I didn't have these brands and scars on my body.

I wish I didn't have to put on a blank face in front of the Men.

I wish I didn't have Claustrophobia.

I wish I could cry and scream until I felt numb.

I wish I didn't have a habit of punishing myself.

I wish I weren't so naturally obedient.

I wish I didn't have terrible nightmares.

I wish I weren't trained assassin.

I wish I didn't expect to be tortured or hit when I do something remotely disobedient.

I wish I didn't flinch away from human touch.

I wish I didn't try to avert my eyes from the Men's faces.

I wish I were normal.

I wish I had memories of a life before this.

I wish I had more memories of the Winter Soldier.

I wish I didn't find this life normal.

I wish someone cared.


	3. Ch 2-Memories and Arachnid hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When some memories force themselves to resurface Bucky's head, he has no choice but to find a friend that was previously forgotten.

**(3rd POV at the Avengers Tower)**

It was a Sunday morning in March. The weather wasn't so great outside– that's an under-exaggeration. Rain was pouring in sheets and wind was sweeping everything away. The clouds were murderously dark and the occasional lightning strike would appear. You could see flags and tarps being blown down the empty streets. The tress were shaking so violently, they looked like they could be toppled over any second. Some actually already fell. There weren't any cars outside. Shops and workplaces weren't open. New York was in a blanket of darkness and impossibly stormy weather. Almost the entirety of the city was shut down for the day.

Most of the Avengers were gathered in the Common Floor. Only Bruce, Scott, and Vision were missing. (Scott was at home because he has a normal life). Thor, Loki, T'Challa (and Shuri) were in their kingdoms, y'know, _ruling them_. Sam and Rhodey were visiting from DC for a few days like they do every once in awhile. Surprisingly, the Avengers, including Tony, were taking a morning off to relax and spend time with each other. Natasha and Clint were currently sitting on the floor in front of the couch. They were neck-in-neck in a heated game of Mario Kart. Bucky was sitting on the couch listening to Steve tell a story about the war to the Maximoff twins. Rhodey was chilling at the breakfast bar and observing everything while eating an apple. Pepper was who-knows-where. Probably working. And Tony wanted to do something nice so he attempted to make breakfast. Emphasize on attempted. Sam was intervening so nothing burned and Tony didn't die.

"I wonder what got Thor in a bad mood." Wanda said with a small smile, gesturing to the homicidal weather outside.

"Who knows." Clint responded from his spot beside Natasha, amusement hinted in his voice. His eyes gleamed mischievously as he knocked Natasha into the lava. Natasha just growled.

Bucky was sitting on the couch but his mind was somewhere completely different. The Soldier was zoning out from the world. His fogged-up thoughts were drowning him and he didn't catch anything anyone said after that. But he faintly heard laughter erupt around him, followed by 'Oh my god could you not?' from someone's voice. Bucky didn't even try to snap out of what he was in. His eyes were focused on his lap and his mind was going a mile a minute. Suddenly, memories came to him. It was all at once. Memories of the HYDRA base he was placed in before the whole Avenger thing. All of the memories were centered around one person. A boy.

He was having another one of his memory episodes. The ones where a jumble of recollections came to him and he couldn't control anything.

Bucky hadn't realized he'd gotten up and started pacing. He didn't even realize he was muttering. But everyone in the room noticed. Mario Kart was paused and potential kitchen disasters were forgotten. All eyes were on the Soldier. He was being very un-Bucky-like right now and the others shared confused glances. They didn't speak though. They just patiently waited to see what would happen.

Memories flooded in;

 _I'm faced against a boy. The boy is younger than me. Probably ten or eleven. But that's way too young to be fighting me. I don't have the time to worry though. The fighting commenced. And, oh lord, was the child strong. The child is able to block one of my full-powered punch with just his singular ba_ re _hand. It sort of scares me._

 _The fighting went on but we were told to stop. I concluded that I didn't want to ever fight him again, partly because of his strength and he stopped my fit like it was nothing. One of the Men dragged u_ s _to the same cell and left us there. I'm confused. Days went by as usual. Routine. But I'm cell mates with this... Kid. Still confused. We never talked though. As the days go by, farther away from the last brainwash, my mind is starting to clear once again. It was an hour before my brainwash session and I decide to speak to the kid. Don't know why, but I feel like I should say something. He seems so... Blank. Not sad but blank. I get that feeling. So I do something spontaneous and I surprise myself._

_"Hey... Do you want to, I don't know, hear a story?" At the mention of a story, the kid perks up and vigorously nods his head._

_"Well, I knew a man named Steve Rogers..."_

_I would tell him different stories as often as I could. Even ones about the Avengers. We grew close. He was kind to me and I was kind to him. Well, as much as my messed-up mind could be. We're both in the same situation so it's a nice connection. I liked him. He never smiles and that kills me. But there wasn't much I could do. I don't smile either so it's fair. I give him some of my food when I see that he looks weaker. My stories make him relax and that's what matters. I want to hug him forever but that seems weird. I want to keep him protected but I feel so powerless. Why do I care so much? I haven't cared this much since... Since... Steve. This kid is my only friend since Steve. And I can't even talk to him half_ _of the time because of the stupid brainwashing. I only talk to him once every few days. Jeez. Some friend I am. I can't do anything but I promise I'll escape with the kid._

 _But one day, the Men came to take me on a mission. It was to face the Avengers. (He just came back from a_ _brainwash session so the Avengers are evil at this point). But I turned to the child who I knew as 'Spider'._

_"I'll be back. And I'll get you the hell out of here." I whispered so quietly that only he could here. I was going to get this kid out of here even if it meant I had to stay here forever._

_Before I saw his expression, I was whisked away._

_That's the last I saw of the boy I considered my friend._

Bucky, at this point, was staring to cry as he paced. One of his hands were quickly running through his hair and the other was on his chin in a pensive expression. His brow was scrunched together with both sadness and frustration. His cheeks were damp and his eyes were starting to turn pink. His mouth was twisted into an expression horror, regret, shame, sadness, and other negative emotions. Even his pacing was faltering slightly and he was shaking.

 _I made a promise. I made a godamn promise that I couldn't keep_. Bucky thought furiously to himself as he paced.

At this point, all the other Avengers were at almost maximum concern. This was certainly not usual behavior, especially for the Soldier. Steve stood up and placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder. His pacing and shaking abruptly stopped. Bucky's tear-filled eyes and sorrowful expression met Steve's concerned gaze. The Soldier looked devastatingly heartbroken. Steve pulled Bucky into a hug and rubbed small circles on his back in an attempt to calm his best friend down. Steve made frantic eye-contact with his equally frantic husband, Tony.

"Hey hey, shh. It's okay Bucky. It's okay. What happened? We're so worried. Was it another memory episode?" Captain asked in a soft voice, but just barely audible for everyone. He pulled out of the hug and faced the fellow super soldier.

"Yeah. I- just. I made a promise to someone and I couldn't keep it and he could be d-dead." Bucky stuttered and hiccoughed slightly. Two more extremely concerning thing that Bucky never does.

But it wasn't nearly as concerning as what he said. He kept muttering the same thing about 'promises' and 'death' and 'Spider'. The Avengers looked alarmed. Cap steered Bucky towards the couch and sat him down. The others silently gathered around him, keeping their distance so he wasn't too overwhelmed. Even Bruce had magically appeared from his lab like he sensed something was up.

"Bucky look at me. We need to know what happened. Maybe we could help." Steve coaxed, his tone just as soft and caring as before.

"I just remembered something. When I was in HYDRA, y'know, before I left them and came to you, I was in a different base for a few months. It wasn't my normal base in Siberia. It was a different one. I think... I was there because I had to go up against a powerful opponent. He was another one of us super soldiers. Except he was... Different" Bucky explained, his memories clouding his vision. Every few words would be spoken slower and more separated, a way of speaking he'd obtained after HYDRA.

"Different? Different how? Good or bad?" Tony asked, his eyes studying the man in front of him.

"He was different dangerous. Very dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than me. Don't remember." The Avengers shared disbelieving glances. More dangerous that _Bucky_?

"But he was younger than me. It was four years ago when I fought him. Looked to be maybe ten or eleven." At that, the Avengers were shocked. "You could tell he was already a murder weapon for the Men. His face had the same blank slate look of any highly-trained assassin. No emotions or signs of fear, hesitation, disbelief, or other. Us two fought for a bit, matchin' well in strength and speed. His abilities were unmatchable though. Jus' can't remember what they were. The Men asked us to stop though.

"They took us to a cell and put both of us in there. We stayed there, every day together. Routine went as usual but we were cell mates for some reason. I don't think either of us knew why. One day, it was before my brainwash and something happened. I had a memory. A small one. Was of you, Stevie. It was something we did when we were younger. So I asked the boy if he wanted to hear a story. He nodded and I told him. It was like that for a while. I'd have a flashback of our adventures and the war and I'd tell him 'bout it. I even told him about the Avengers a few times. He liked the stories. He liked you Stevie. He wanted to meet you. I told him you were dead though, 'cause at the time, I thought you were. He was sad but still thought you were cool. The boy... He didn't have a name. They called him 'Arachnid' I think because of his skills and abilities. He didn't like the name and told me to call him 'Spider'. Anyway, I remember I grew to like this kid. We were friends. But one day, the Men took me on a mission. It was the one I would never return from because I'm with you guys now. Before I left, I promised him I'd get him out of there...

"...it's been four years and he could very well be dead. I'd forgotten about him."

At this point, Bucky was burying his head into Steve's chest, sobbing from the memories. Steve was just rubbing his back and whispering words of encouragement.

The Avengers were s h o o k e t h ( **sorry** ). During the story, the stayed silent but their expressions changed. They felt so many emotions. But they all felt sad. Sad that Bucky felt this way. Sad for the boy he called 'Spider'. Sad for the promise. Sad.

They didn't know what to say.

Minutes of silence passed.

Then a voice spoke up.

"FRIDAY, call Fury" Tony commanded, his voice shaking slightly.

"Video call or audio call, sir?" The AI responded politely.

"Video, but only focus on me" He replied, eyeing Bucky.

"Yes, sir" She replied. Just then, the TV screen turned into a video call but the camera was pointing at Tony. You couldn't see Steve or Bucky but you could see some of the others.

It rang once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Four times.

He picked up.

"Look Stark, you better not be wasting my time. I'm a busy-" he cut off when he saw _actual worry_ in Tony's eyes. He sighed, "What could possibly be the problem?"

"Alright, can you hack into all HYDRA bases and look for someone for me?"

A minute passed and everyone could hear vigorous clacking of many keyboards.

"We're in a few of the systems. But not all of them." A stern voice said from the video screen. "Who are you looking for?"

Tony frantically looked at Bucky for help.

"PTR Arachnid... What were the numbers? Dammit" Bucky mumbled at the screen.

A few more seconds passed. "There's only one PTR Arachnid. The numbers are 24601." Fury responded. "We found the match. He's in a base in southern Italy. We're trying to pinpoint it. I suggest you guys come to SHIELD HQ. Makes it easier." Then Fury just hung up, giving them no options.

An hour of flying in a Quinjet passed and they were in SHIELD HQ with Fury. All the data was displayed on computers and holograms in front of them.

"Your little Spider appears to be here." Fury pointed to a dot on a remote spot on a map of Italy. It was very south and right on the water. But entirely underground and in a cliff face.

"Chart a course Fury, we're on the hunt for a Spider" Natasha said, her brow furrowed with determination.

With that, everyone suited up and hopped into the Quinjet for their rescue mission.

There was a Spider to catch.


	4. Ch 3-The capturing of an Arachnid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can the Avengers capture one assassin, or will they go home with bruised prides and broken bones?

**WARNING: Rape  
  
Peter's POV**

I woke from a nightmare. It was about the Vulture mission. I shuddered. Sighing and forcing my eyes open, I got up to wait for an order.

In that time, I went to the wall and added another tick, muttering, "1583 days since the man with the stories left." I wish I could remember his name. A pain consumed my head and soon my mind was foggy again. I forgot what I was talking/thinking about. Meh, it's normal.

A few minutes later, one of the Men came in and said that it was time for some training with the others. I obediently walked with him to the combat room.

I was forced to fight a girl four years younger than me while others watched on the side. My sane mind slipped and my inhumane side took over. The fight only lasted a minute and the opponent was already losing. The inhumane side had her struggling on the ground. 'He' looked at the Men, expecting the killing order and method of killing. A Man said 'Venom'. Great. This will be torture for them and me. Taking a deep breath, 'He' pinned her down and lowered my head to her neck. My sane mind came back. Sinking my teeth into her skin, I heard whimpers, quickly replaced by yelps. Those yelps evolved into shrieks and cries of pain. I didn't look at her. But I knew her body was shuddering and twitching, turning paler and paler by the second. Her face flushing and she was crying. With a jolt, it was over. She lie limp on the ground in front of my bowed head, foaming at the mouth. Two Men happily dragged her away.

I had to fight again. More of my inhumane side taking over. Yay. This time it was a boy one year younger than me. He looked absolutely terrified. I don't blame him. I'm scared of myself sometimes. The fight lasted longer, he was good at hand-to-hand combat. 'He' wasn't allowed to use my webs this round so that also contributed. Still, it only lasted about two or three minutes. Like with the girl, 'He' looked at the Men for the killing. One of the Men threw me a gun. Quick and painless. That's better I suppose. Pinning the guy against the wall, 'He' pushed the gun to the side of his head. The boy was sobbing and begging but I had no choice. As per usual, my sane side came back for this part. I looked away and muttered a quick 'sorry' before pulling the trigger. The sound of a gunshot echoed around the room and killed my eardrums. I heard fainting ringing but pushed it away. Blood splattered my clothing and skin. I didn't look back at the boy. The Men dragged him away. Every kid in the room was horrified and cowering.

I was dragged back to my cell and remained there for a few hours. They left me a wet cloth to clean the blood off.

 _Click Clack Click Clack_. I flinced but stood up straight and still before the door opened. For a moment, my inhumane side shone through and the fog accompanied it as usual. Time for my daily torture.

****rape stuff starts** ****

I walked with to the Man to the usual room with the table and vibranium restraints. They told me to lie down on my back. They strapped me in and then left. A different Man walked in with a blindfold, tying it around my eyes and head. Oh it was this punishment. Their favourite. I hated this one. The Man took off my leg restraints and took off my pants and underwear, leaving me embarrassed and exposed. He removed my leg restraints and pulled my feet and calves onto his shoulder, keeping my legs apart. I knew better than to struggle so I just let it happen like usual. All of a sudden, pain hit me as his, y'know, was pushed into my stomach from between my legs. I squirmed but he held me still by the hips. He thrusted in and out mercilessly, making me whimper from the pain and personal violation. I bit my tongue until it was bleeding as to not cry and yelp. The Man lifted my shirt up past my chest. I felt his lips hit my bare chest as he started biting, kissing, and licking my front. Especially my nipples.

This dragged on for around an hour (but it felt like forever) until something hot filled me up and his, y'know, exited. I could feel it drip from me and I heard the faint sound of liquid hit the floor. I smelled semen and... Blood? Shit. My area felt so abused. The Man undid all my restraints and blindfold and said to get dressed in 5 minutes or I get punished. I heard the door open and close while I was facing the other way. I sat up, almost crumpling back down from the pain. I spotted my pants and underwear in the corner along with a towel. I still smelled blood. Hesitantly, I touched down there and when my finger reappeared, there was blood on it. Not a lot, but still some. I reluctantly forced myself up. My eyes were brimming with tears from the pain of mobility, but I forced them down. I cleaned myself up with the towel and got dressed as usual. A Man came to get me and I was put back in my cell.

****rape stuff ends**

Time went by and I had my 'schooling' session. It was extremely successful. I only got one question wrong which meant only one cut. By the time I returned to my room, it had stopped bleeding, and clotted up. My healing factor was already working.

An hour of cell time went by and my mind wandered to the man who used to tell me stories. I miss him. I thought about the people called Avengers and the guy named Captain America. My thoughts were disturbed by a Man yelling 'Get out here right now Spider! We're under attack'. Followed by the door opening and my mission suit being tossed in. _I wonder who's attacking?_ I got dressed and ran out, the (to me) strong sound of explosions and gunshots guiding my way. The pain in my lower area and abdomen definetly didn't help. Felt better than earlier though. _Thank god for my healing_.

I arrived on the scene and saw a group of... Superheroes? Wait no... Not superheroes. Avengers. They looked like how he described them. I even recognized Captain America. _Steve. That's really Steve. From the stories_. He looks like how he was described. The Men gave me the order to kill right before they injected something in my neck with another needle. My vision went blurry for a second and my head pounded before they went back to normal. The Men repeated the order but I didn't hear it. 'He' heard it. It was 'His' turn to control my actions. My mind fogged as usual and my sane side was pushed down to watch the carnage. Suddenly, the Avengers didn't seem so nice. I had the desire to kill.

**Bucky & Avengers 3rd POV (On the way to the HYDRA base)**

Bucky paced the Quinjet endlessly. Everyone was inside discussing what to do, as they were almost there.

Mission? Get in. Grab Spider. Grab any information possible. Blow some shit up. Demolish some HYDRA people. Get out. Simple.

But Bucky still worried endlessly. What if they've done something awful to Spider? What if Spider doesn't know him anymore? What if Spider manages to kill some of the Avengers, including himself? After some intense arguing and protesting with Natasha and Steve, Bucky gave up and agreed to staying on the Quinjet for the mission. They were unsure as to how Bucky would react to everything, so it's best if he stays. He would be with the Maximoff twins, Vision, and Bruce though. Four of them were for emergency backup and Bruce was the medic and a _last resort_.

"Alright guys, we're landing in five minutes a few miles north of the base. Get ready" Clint's voice called out.

Five minutes passed agonizingly slow for Bucky. The majority of the team got off and now it was just a matter of waiting. Bucky kept pacing but the Maximoff twins eventually convinced him to play Uno with them.

**Avengers 3rd POV**

The team traveled quickly to the base. Natasha, Steve, and Clint were carried by the people who could actually fly, making everything go faster. They snuck around the side of the base towards the cliff face. The flying ones flew off the edge, they faced the window on the cliff. War Machine blew the window and most of the wall up. Everything happened so fast. The three who couldn't fly were placed in the base while the others kept blowing up the wall and ceiling. Not really safe but that doesn't matter. Once literally everyone in the base was aware of their presence, the fighting began. HYDRA people were knocked out or blown up left and right. Minutes of this passed but still no sign of the Spider. The fighting was decently easy considering HYDRA was protecting a dangerous human weapon. Falcon was able to slip away silently in search for any info on the Spider. His specific mission was to just get in, get the research, and go back to the base without fighting.

**3rd POV**

There he was. Amongst the fighting, explosions, and chaos, he arrived. The black spandex-donned boy was making his way towards the Avengers. As he got closer, the heroes noticed that the fighting lessened. The Men retreated to watch, relying on this _one_ boy to save them all. Every Avenger faced him, observing the teen.

"Alright look. Give us the Spider and we'll leave. We don't want to hurt him. If not, all of you die. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Tony said in a voice loud and sort of bored-yet-worried-sounding.

No one replied. Instead, as if robotically, Winter Spider shot a web at Tony, yanking him forward. When Ironman got to his reach, before the man could react, Spider grabbed him by the arm and threw him against the wall with a resounding crash.

"Hard way." Spider simply replied, grinning under his mask.

With that, all hell broke loose. Arrows, knives, a shield, and blasters were fired at Spider. He dodged everything expertly except one of the knives, which just barely knicked his left thigh. Arachnid was just thankful that the support columns in the room weren't blown up because they provide easy swinging and maneuverability. Winter Spider dodged just about everything, swinging around the columns. He occasionally landed at hit on someone.

On one swing, Hawkeye shot an arrow at the web string, causing the teen to fall to the ground. When he got up, Hawkeye shot another, this time a tranquilizer aiming for his arm. Without even turning around to face him, Winter Spider caught Hawkeye's arrow and threw it to the ground.

"I- what the shit!? How?" Hawkeye exclaimed, thrown off guard by the, until now, nearly impossible action.

"Good but not good enough" Spider responded and before Hawkeye knew it, he was webbed up and immobilized.

"Language" he heard Black Widow call, followed by, "Not the time" from Steve.

Spider continued, eventually catching Steve's shield and throwing it back to him. He faced Natasha in hand-to-hand combat. But Natasha pulled out some knives and managed to get a cut in here and there. They weren't bad, just ones to slow him down and not cause damage. She was here to capture, not kill. Spider managed to tie her hands up though. Out of the corner of his eye, Winter Spider caught sight of the Falcon sneaking out with some documents and a case. Before he could shoot a web at him, War Machine was blocking his way. The teen dodged the shots and eventually managed to swing behind the man and knock him unconscious, all while dodging Cap's shield. Cap ran up behind him in attempt to knock him out, but to no avail. Spider turned around at the last second and knocked the shield out of Steve's hand. Captain tried to punch him, only to be met with Winter Spider's hand clasping his fist, surprising the soldier. Spider grabbed Captain by the arm and yeeted him into the incoming Tony. They were both knocked to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them get up. However the teen was too occupied by his Spidey Sense to notice. The Sense told him to duck, but he was too focused on finding Falcon. Making that mistake, Spider ended up being put in a choke-hold by Black Widow. Her hands had been cut free by one her vibranium knives. He tried to pry her off but his hands were suddenly held down by Steve.

All of a sudden, he felt a pain in his neck. A needle.

And his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I suck at fight scenes.


	5. Ch 4-HOmEcOmiNg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen on the way home? Will secrets be revealed? Pasts be uncovered? Powers discovered?

**3rd POV**

When the Winter Spider collapsed into Steve's arms, the Avengers knew they had completed their job. Tony bid a snarky farewell to the remaining HYDRA agents and flew out of there. He was followed closely by the others. War Machine and Ironman, carrying Spider, took to the sky first, disappearing from sight. Natasha helped Clint out of his webbing and soon the two of them (along with Steve) were headed to the cliff edge. Without hesitation, they jumped out, landing on the hovering Quinjet below and climbing inside.

The HYDRA agents yelled, shot, and cursed at the jet, but it was all in vain. The Quinjet promptly flew off to New York. It would take them only five hours thanks to the sheer speed of the machine.

They all entered and Bucky immediately approached them, demanding to see Winter Spider.

"Let me see him. I want to see Spider. Now." Bucky said, eyeing the unconscious boy that was barely in view behind Tony.

"He's fine, Buck. But I don't think that's the best idea. We don't know what will happen if you see him again. Besides, he needs some stitches and scans." Steve replied calmly, keeping the desperate soldier away from the Spider.

"He's right, Barnes. The boy needs medical attention. I'll get on that right now." Bruce said, from his spot in the corner. He went around Steve and got to the teen.

"Let me just see his face. Please?" Buck asked desperately, his voice cracking pathetically at the question. He knew the two men were right.

"Alright." Banner answered, not wanting to deprive the emotionless man of something he loved enough to actually cry over.

They laid the teen on the medical table/pod thing. He was still unconscious and bleeding from his scattered cuts that Romanoff caused. Everyone was gathered around the boy. Clint left the Quinjet in autopilot.

"You can do the honours." Steve said softly, placing his massive hand on his best friend's shoulder.

Bucky took a deep breath and unmasked the boy. "Эй, паук. Вы в возрасте. Это было какое-то время, не так ли? Посмотри на себя и свои синяки. Что они с тобой сделали? Я скучал по тебе, кстати." Bucky let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His flesh hand automatically traced the boy's jawline, caressing him in a caring way. His hand traced the scar below Spider's eye. "Ты все еще похож на ребенка. Я сдержал свое обещание Паук. Я знаю, что это было давно. Но я рада, что вернула тебя. Вам больше не нужно будет находиться на этой базе HYDRA. Разве это не звучит хорошо?" Bucky chuckled a little, a small tear fell from his eye. ( **Translation down below** ).

Everyone watched the interaction. Natasha understood what Bucky was saying and she hung her head slightly, being respectful. They studied the boy's face. He was definetly young. He looked young yet hauntingly mature. Like the whole world's pain and wisdom was kept in his baby-like face. He's seen some unimaginable things– they all silently agreed.

"Bucky..." Bruce began softly, "We have to give him stitches now. You'll be able to see him again when we're back at the tower. Okay?"

Bucky just nodded, wiping his tears as Steve guided him back to a seat near the table Winter Spider was in. The two had a clear view of the Spider on the table. Clint went back to piloting the jet, a worried expression never leaving his otherwise blank face. The Maximoff twins, along with Vision, didn't continue their card game, instead they just sat in silence. Sam and Rhodey were sitting and gazing out the window. Sam didn't have the gut to look through the files he'd found. Tony, Natasha, and Bruce were talking, glancing at Spider's unconscious body.

_"We'll have to strip him of his suit. But of course leave his boxers on." Bruce said as he and Tony went on either side of the table, Natahsa watching them._

_"Assuming that he has boxers on." Tony commented with a straight face. Natasha swatted him over the head and scowled playfully._

_The science bros placed their hands on Spider's neck where the suit started. All the Avengers were watching what was happening. Even Clint was glancing back every now and then._

_"Jesus. I feel like I'm being threatened when I just touch the damn thing. I got chills up my spine." Tony shivered as he and Bruce began to pull Spider's suit off, Bruce hummed in agreement. They were very careful._

_Once it was off, Spider's–almost–entire body was exposed. Only his tight black boxers were still on._

_"Oh god look at the poor kid" Tony said, horrified as he stepped back after everything was off. His face twisted in fear and disgust. But not for Winter Spider's body. It was for whoever did this to him._

_All the Avengers were around the table again, looking at the boy. Clint repeatedly told the Maximoff twins to not look, but they refused and looked anyway. Steve told Bucky not to, but Bucky answered with a grunt, saying "I've seen plenty scars before, including my own.”_

_When they all got a look at the boy, they gasped in shock. His cuts were already clotted up but that's not what they were looking at. They were looking at the scars and burns that littered the boy's body. Where they covered him, especially his stomach. The slashes of knives and whips overlapped each other. Splotches of old and new burns scattered his body like freckles. His body was also covered in bruises. Big and blotchy. Some brand new and some fading away. He also had... Hickeys? He was sickly thin, each of his ribs poking out and his body looked hollow. But his toned skin still had abs and faint muscles. However, the thing that scared them the most was his brand. 'Hail HYDRA' branded clearly on his V-line, right below his belly button. It disgusted them all that people could do this to a kid._

_"I-I didn't know they branded him too" Bucky said, examining the boy's torso for the first time._

_"Too?" Tony looked at Bucky. Bucky just pulled his shirt up, leaving his own brand exposed on his stomach. That also earned small gasps._

_"They do it to all of their high-class weapons. The ones that are the most dangerous. Prized possessions even. It means they have the most value and that they will forever belong to HYDRA. That includes me and Spider, I guess." Bucky spat, not taking his eyes off the unconscious boy._

_Tony and Bruce flipped the boy over to see if there are any other marks. Needless to say, there were. And another brand to everyone's horror, even Bucky._

_"Twice!? They branded him twice? They only branded me once. What the hell? I guess he really is their most valuable possession" Bucky cursed and seethed under his breath. His fists were clenched as tight as possible. His flesh hand's knuckles were turning white and his nails were digging into his skin._

_After all the Avengers got their quick glances at the boy, Bruce and Natasha shooed them away to commence the stitching. Bucky watched from the side. Steve was beside him, his husband Tony was pacing. The stitching was done in a matter of minutes._

_"Two more hours folks!" Clint called back, not a hint of joy in his voice._

_"FRIDAY, scan the boy. Any scan possible. Injuries, sicknesses, brain scans, whatever. Scan him." Tony said as he paced, his hand on his chin, deep in thought. He was worried. A rare emotion for him to openly show._

_Blue light enveloped Spider's body for a moment that lasted forever, "Yes boss... Scan complete. I am seeing many injuries. Burn marks, whip injuries, knive injuries, physical contact, including abuse, possibly a concussion, bruises, and hickeys. Those are (almost) all presented as scars around his body. I did not include the cuts Ms. Romanoff inflicted though. His anus is severely damaged. My scanners say it is a 99.3% chance abuse and overstimulation in that area. More specifically rape. He appeared to be bleeding from his anus earlier. He is malnourished and on the brink of starvation. He needs nutrition immediately. His ears have been damaged slightly. He has a broken rib that seems to have been cracked for a few months without healing completely. It was not set in place properly, resulting in an improper heal. His left pinkie finger is sprained along with his nose. He is not sick though. But it is likely he will wake up with, or already has, PTSD and severe trust issues._

_"I have done scans on his brain and DNA. It appears that his DNA is fused with that of a Spider's. I have scanned and found he has enhanced abilities. However, I am not programmed to look into DNA for these abilities. You will have to do blood tests yourself. As for his brain, it resembles that of Mr. Barnes' previous state. He is not acting as though he normally would. There is a man-made shield around it caused by HYDRA. They have brainwashed him and influenced his actions. I suggest you also do scans for that yourself because I cannot go into details. He has no memories of anything before HYDRA. Even most of his memories of HYDRA are gone or hard to recall. I also see a chip in his neck. It is located at the base of his left tonsil and a few inches above the collarbone. The chip appears to have some influence on the boy's thoughts and actions. It causes him to act more like how HYDRA wants him to. The chip is also a tracking device so I suggest you get rid of it immediately. That is everything, boss_." FRIDAY finished her report, her Irish accent seeming to be laced with concern and sadness, among other emotions.

Everyone visibly stiffened at the information. It only got worse. Murmurs of 'Jeez', 'Jesus Christ', 'Oh Lord' and other variations were heard throughout the ship. Even Vision seemed to show sad emotions. Wanda was tearing up and Pietro was comforting her with a somber look on his face. Bucky was already crying. His sobs were muffled by his hands. Steve was holding himself together pretty well, only a glossy look in his eyes and the contractions of his muscles portrayed anything. Tony sat down, running his hands through his hair as Steve wrapped his arm around him. Natasha looked like she was ready to kill a bitch, her eyes changing from soft and caring to murderous and deadly every second. Sam and Rhodey just sat in silence. But Sam had his head in his hands. Bruce was still standing beside Winter Spider and his face showed a mix of calculating sadness. He was hooking nutrients up to Spider's arm so he didn't starve. Clint was focusing on flying, but he was fighting back tears.

Dr. Banner took a moment before a deep breath filled his lungs, "Okay let's get this chip out if him. FRIDAY, save any data and take any images you can of this boy. Make sure it's of everything. His mental and physical state. All scans you made too. I want a before and after look with the chip in and out of his system." FRIDAY confirmed she did it and Bruce started. He searched for the chip and eventually found it. Bruce expertly slit open a small gash in his neck and removed the tiny chip. He placed it into a glass vial for experimenting later. He sewed the slit back up and washed his hands.

"Hey Bruce. Check out the cuts I gave him. Look, they're already healing" Natasha nodded to Spider from the corner of the Quinjet.

Sure enough, they were already quite healed. "What? How? ...Enhanced healing. That could be one of the things FRIDAY mentioned." Bruce realized. "Incredible." He breathed.

Just then, Winter Spider's eyes flew open. He was fully alert. He jumped up and stuck to the ceiling, his IV yanking out. Everybody froze looked at him shocked.

"Mission: Kill Avengers. Sub-mission: Escape this place and report back." Spider said in a monotone voice, his eyes dark and calculating. Just then, he jumped down and knocked Bruce off his feet.

Steve held Bucky back from doing anything irrational and stupid. Tony and Natasha immediately contained the teen. But Spider managed to web up Tony's feet. However, they had the upper hand with the familiarity of the space. Natasha grabbed the nearest tranquilizing needle and stuck it into Winter Spider's neck. Arachnid fell limp and was placed back on the table. An IV was put back in, nutrition being forced into his malnourished body.

"He wasn't supposed to wake up for another three hours." Bruce groaned as he got back up.

"Enhanced healing... That could mean that his body got rid of any unwanted fluids too. Like how I can't get drunk. Maybe he can't be tranquilized for long. It probably erases itself from his system faster than a normal person." Steve pointed out, remembering the earlier note from Bruce.

"You're right. I'll have to double the dosage or something." Bruce said, injecting another needle in the teen. "Let's hope this works."

"One more hour!" Clint called.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Bucky kept his gaze on the Winter Spider at all times, as did Natasha. Tony fell asleep against Steve, and the Star-Spangled man kept his hand on Bucky's shoulder. He needed to reassure his friend and keep his husband comfortable at the same time. Sam forgot about the files in his hand and fell asleep. Rhodey just stared out the window with Bruce. It was pouring rain just like earlier, the sky still dark but was turning darker as the night came. 'Comme un vache qui pisse' Rhodey remarked quietly, letting out the smallest of chuckles. Vision did his best practicing on braiding Wanda's hair and Pietro went and sat with Clint. Pietro and Clint talked occasionally in whispers, but never for too long or too loud.

" _Arriving at your destination._ " FRIDAY's voice echoed through the Quinjet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> "Hey Spider. You've aged. It's been awhile, right? Look at you and your bruises. What did they do to you? I missed you, by the way."
> 
> "You still look like a child. I kept my promise to you, Spider. I know that was a long time ago. But I'm glad I got you back. You will no longer need to be at that HYDRA base. Does that sound god?"


	6. Ch 5-Who is this Spider?

**3rd POV**

The Avengers arrived back at the tower, the rain still pouring down, now more hail-like. They rushed Winter Spider inside on a stretcher and took him to the Medical Bay. Bruce had already called Dr. Cho and informed her of everything beforehand, so she was there waiting to see Spider.

"You guys can't come in. Wait in the common floor until Dr. Cho and I are done hooking him up to nutrients and taken blood samples. We'll be with you in a minute." Bruce told the team before heading inside a room with the Dr and the teen.

Everyone grumbled but agreed with the scientist, not wanting to get Banner angry. They begrudgingly shuffled inside the elevator and to the common floor. Bucky was looking especially crestfallen.

"I just hope he remembers at least a little bit of me when he wakes up" Bucky murmured as they all stepped out of the elevator.

"Tony! The documents. I have them with me. I completely forgot. We should look through the those right now." Sam brightened slightly, waving the thick stack of documents in his hand.

All of their faces visibly brightened yet darkened at the same time. They'll have something to keep them busy _and_ they'll be able to learn about the Winter Spider. But what if what they find is horrifying? What if they find what they're searching for but it's not what they need to see?

"Alright lay them all on the table. I want to get this over with." Tony said as they walked over to the very large kitchen table.

The multiple documents were spread out, some quite thick, others almost paper-thin with little-to-no information. There were about two Avengers per document, making the process go faster. Everyone sifted through their documents, searching for anything majorly important. The sleek white table was soon being covered by papers.

"I found something." Wanda said. "It's his personal info. Look. FRIDAY take a picture of this and show the hologram."

" _Yes Little Witch_ " she replied, giving Wanda the nickname Tony programmed her to use. Soon, the document was in hologram form in front of them. The entire page was clearly visible.

_Name: Benjamin Parker, Peter_

_Age: 2 years_

_Sex: Male_

_Birthday: August 10th, 2001_

The page went on, listing other info about the boy. But there was a very limited amount. It seemed like this boy had no real background or family.

"Peter... I like that name. It suits him" Bucky's lips formed a very small smile.

"So his name is Peter Benjamin Parker. Interesting. He was two when they captured him. Oh God." Tony muttered to no one in particular.

Natasha skimmed over the info several times, eventually saying, "Is that it? Is that all there is on the boy? This can't be right..."

Wanda pulled out a few more papers, had FRIDAY scan them, and them made them into holograms. "There's this too. It's his family." She said as the holograms appeared.

_Name: Parker, Mary_

_Age: 31 years_

_Sex: Female_

_Birthday: January 18th, 1972_

_Mother of Parker, Peter_

_Name: Parker, Richard_

_Age: 32 years_

_Sex: Male_

_Birthday: June 22cnd, 1971_

_Father of Parker, Peter_

_Name: Parker, May_

_Age: 30 years_

_Sex: Female_

_Birthday: May 5th, 1973_

_Aunt of Parker, Peter_

_Name: Parker, Benjamin_

_Age: 34 years_

_Sex: Male_

_Birthday: October 1st, 1969_

_Uncle of Parker, Peter_

The Avengers were taken aback. There was limited info on these people too. But Richard and Mary were his parents while Benjamin and May were his uncle and aunt. That wasn't what shocked them. What shocked them was the large blood-red stamp over each of their photos. The stamp read 'TERMINATED' in bold but fading letters.

"They're all dead. He doesn't have any family left?" Clint mumbled, the second statement sounding more like a question.

"I guess so. But I've heard of Richard Parker. He was a renowned scientist. He specialized in cross-species genetics. Worked for Oscorp before his disappearance. All his research was lost too. I guess this is where everything ended up. After Richard disappeared, Norman Osborn died and so did the company. Some of the workers came to work under my company instead." Tony replied.

"And here's the address of their house." Natasha said, showing the others an address scribbled on the bottom of a page. It was an address in Queens.

After examining the messy scrawl, they went back to sifting through the files, hoping to find more. Minutes of near-silence passed when they heard a sort of gasp and a book fall on the floor. Everybody turned to see Clint pick up a red journal. It resembled exactly like the one HYDRA used for Bucky. Instead of a star, there was a spider on the cover.

"This... This looks like the _other_ journal." Clint said. They all knew what he meant by 'other'.

Swiftly, they gathered around him, but Bucky hung back, unsure of himself. Steve kept his hand in his shoulder and murmured reassuring things in his ear, eventually letting Bucky go to the book on his own accord.

Clint flipped through, "There doesn't seem to be any 'activating words' like the ones they used on Barnes. But there are lots of notes. It's written in a mix of Russian and I think that's... Italian?"

"I can translate well enough." Natasha grabbed the book and sifted through, landing on the first entry.

"Here, it says:

_Cross-Species genetics scientist Richard Parker has been terminated. All research now is being used to create the perfect soldier. His son Peter Parker is suitable for said experiment._

_Subject: PTR Arachnid 24601, Captured on September 20th, 2003_

_April 3rd 2005: Day 1 of experimentation._

_Subject shows sign of high fever and sweating. But the DNA is merging with his own. Success seems probable._

_Day 6 of experimentation._

_Subject has reached incredible metabolism rate and appears to have an enhanced healing factor. All cuts given have healed within two days. His teeth also show signs of venomous properties._

_Day 15 of experimentation._

_Subject killed four doctors by ripping their limbs off and injecting his venom. He is developing extreme strength and speed. His ears are beyond normal and so are his eyes. It is difficult to contain him. The effects of the experimentation seem to make him act feral. Be cautious when approaching._

_Day 29 of experimentation._

_Subject can shoot webs out of his wrists, and stick to any surface. His reflexes are beyond human. He was able to catch our arrows without even facing us. We believe he has no more abilities. He has killed twenty of our men over the past week. The spider DNA has fully fused with his, making him half spider._

_..._

_July 31st, 2010_

_It has been nearly nine years since the capture of PTR Arachnid 24601. The extent of his abilities seem to be super strength, super speed, enhanced healing, higher metabolism, enhanced eyesight, enhanced hearing, ability to stick to most any surfaces, venomous bite, and extreme reflexes. Subject is submissive and no longer aggressive towards his superiors. He does not protest when training or going on missions. His schooling and torturing goes well. Subject shows very high IQ. His age is almost 9 but he is already almost beyond a grade 8 level in everything. He shows promise when training and on missions. He has killed approximately 100 people and children so far in both training and missions. It is likely he will become HYDRA's strongest weapon next to the Winter Soldier. If not, stronger._

_..._

_March 9th, 2011_

_Spider and Soldier have faced in combat. Both are strong. We have put them as cell mates. They do not speak or show signs of communication._

_..._

_August 28th, 2012_

_Winter Soldier has escaped us. His whereabouts are unknown. Arachnid has been acting more submissive recently. Yet also very hopeful. The two must be linked somehow. Arachnid shows symptoms of sadness and presumably loss of family. He was closer to the Winter Soldier than initially thought._

_..._

_January 3rd, 2014_

_Subject has received our new chip. It works the same as Winter Soldier's arm and the activating words combined. Subject is fully submissive to the chip now. Chip successful. Now, Arachnid is the Winter Spider._

"There's more but that's what seems most important" Natasha read the choppy sentences carefully, looking up at the others when she was done.

Clint snatched the book despite not being able to read it, "'Killed four doctors by ripping their limbs off and injecting his venom'. Jesus Christ what are we getting ourselves into? Bucky you _lived_ with this kid?"

Bucky shrugged "He never hurt me. And I never hurt him."

"Still, he _ripped off their limbs_."

Bucky just shrugged again "He's strong. Spider always has been." he used Peter's nickname, his tone of voice signaled that this little argument was over.

Comfortable silence. They went back to sifting through the info but nothing else was important. There were a few records of missions but none of them were in detail.

"That's it. So Bucky..." Steve carefully started, "...tell us about the kid?" It came out as a question. The other Avengers listened attentively.

Bucky hesitated just slightly. "I'm not sure...? I don't have that much memory of him. But he was nice. Quiet. Always liked my stories about you and the war. Never provoked me or anything, was just patient and attentive. He was able to somehow make me feel happy despite the whole..." The soldier made weird hand motions, "...HYDRA thing. Only ever wanted to hear about my life. Guess since he didn't have memories of his own? He thought you were cool Steve. Regarding who he was outside of our cell... Well he was another one of HYDRA's murder weapons. Always obedient. Never rebelled, not like me. Did what he was told. Killed who he had to. I'm not sure why he was so obedient but the Men liked him. I honestly can't tell you a lot about him."

Tony looked lost in thought and then suddenly, his head snapped up. An idea popped in his head. Never a good thing. Tony stared at Wanda, a look was ever-so-prominent in his eyes.

"No" she said.

"But please?" Tony dragged out the 'please'.

"I'm not doing it Stark."

"I developed a new technology. One that will help you look through his memories."

"I can't just look in his mind, Stark. There are things that we shouldn't see. Anything that's in there must be private. I- I don't want to trigger anything from our own experiences." Wanda said, his arms crossed in defiance.

"I'm sorry Wanda. And I get that. But we really need to know who we're dealing with. This kid could be a lot more than Bucky said. Who knows what he could do to us. We need to be prepared. Approach with caution. Looking at his memories will help us. Help him." Tony pleaded.

"I hate to say this Wanda, considering... Spider is my friend, but this is for the best. I'm not sure if what I told you 100% true anymore. He could've changed a lot since I last saw him." Bucky said softly, hesitating on whether he should even say this or not.

"Alright but this is only because Bucky said to. And because you're both right. This is the last time I'm doing it. You two owe me a favour too." Wanda fumed, but agreed with the men.

Bruce walked in and everyone turned to face him.

"We took some blood samples. You can do what you want with them Tony. And the chip too. He's hooked up to nutrients so he'll be okay. He's in decently stable condition. But we're keeping him under for a few days. The boy still needs to heal fully." Bruce informed the team. "Did you find anything about him?"

"Yeah his name is Peter Parker..." Steve filled Bruce in about his parents, his powers, everything. He told Bruce that Wanda will be looking into his memories and that Tony invented something so that they'd all see.

Soon, the team was making their way to the hospital wing, along with some machines and gear that Tony picked up.


	7. Ch 6-Peter's memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so just a quick note:  
> All of the warnings are in this chapter. So skip it if you need to. The 'TL;DR' of the chapter is just insight on Peter's past.

**WARNINGS: Literally all of them**

**Avengers POV**

They all made their way to Peter's room in the Med Bay. Bucky, Wanda, Sam, and Rhodey were hesitant. Sam and Rhodey for slightly different reasons. They both didn't like invading privacy. It was rude and unnecessary. But damn did this kid catch their attention. They couldn't not see his memories. This mysterious boy with so little info yet so high importance/danger suddenly swings into their lives and means something to _Bucky of all people_. Who wouldn't be curious? Wanda was hesitant because she was the one having to look into his mind– his personal and probably very painful memories. Not fun. Bucky just... Well he didn't like the idea of ever seeing a HYDRA base again. Especially not through his previously forgotten friend's mind. It felt cruel and not right but Bucky had to admit that he was as curious as the rest of them. Vision didn't go with them though. They guessed he just didn't need to. He was a pure being with little-to-no faults. Not too surprising since he didn't have a mean fake bone in his AI body.

The team shuffled their way into the Winter Spider's room. Bruce put the boy in a really big room with lots of extra space, accounting for all the Avengers. There was a large space on one side with a few chairs but it was mostly empty floor room. Spider was fast asleep in his slightly bigger-than-normal hospital bed on the other.

Peter. The boy who single-handedly fought the Avengers, now lay peaceful in his bed. Peter. The boy who killed so many innocents, now fast asleep. Peter. The boy who lived as a HYDRA experiment and weapon for thirteen years out of his fifteen-year life.

He didn't move at all and his chest barely rose and fell when he breathed. His face was hollow and his curls flopped against his eyes. Spider was sitting up-right and bandages were visible under his hospital gown. A white one was wrapped around his head. Soft jazz was playing in the background. Machines and IV's were hooked up to him, pumping in many fluids and surveying his vitals.

Tony had Wanda sit in a chair placed in the middle of the room as he hooked her up to his machine. It was a band with wires that wrapped around her head just above her eyes. Most of the wires connected to a small box that sits on the floor. Some of the other wires from the band hooked up to a band placed around Peter's head. But there were a few more outlets in Wanda's band for two more headsets.

Wanda sat in her chair, annoyed. Tony ignored her scorn and beckoned for Bucky. He held out another band that connected to Wanda's.

"Put this on. Wanda will have access to your memories too, just in case. Don't worry, she's not looking through your mind. But it's for more view on Spider's memories. We'll all be conscious while we're in there though and we'll be able to see what's happening as it happens. Like virtual reality." He explained, reassuring the conflicted soldier. Bucky nodded, took the headset and donned it as he sat in a chair beside Winter Spider's bed.

"Alright let's get this over with." Wanda's eyes went dark Crimson and the three bands did too. But it was mostly Wanda's and Peter's that had wisps of red surrounding them. The tendrils of red made their way to each and every person in the room. They wrapped like snakes around their bodies and created a mask over their eyes. The jazz music in the background quickly faded out as their eyes glazed over. Everybody's 'soul' was transported into a mindscape. They couldn't see each other and it was as if it was only them there. Wherever they were was completely black and they stood on nothingness. An abyss. But soon, the scenery warped and the team stood inside a memory.

_A little four-year-old Peter stood trembling in front of a HYDRA man. His eyes were glossed with tears and his head was bowed._

_"Now, child, you will be known as PTR Arachnid 24601. 'Arachnid' for short. That is how you introduce yourself to everyone. Understand?" The man demanded in German sternly._

_"Y-yes." Peter stuttered quietly. He earned a slap across his face. A tear fell._

_"We do not tolerate crying wimps here. Only the strong survive. That response was w e a k. I repeat; Do. You. Understand?" The man practically shouted._

_"Yes sir!" Peter said louder, looking the man in the eye, but his fearful expression never left._

_This time Spider was being experimented on. Doctors were in the room taking notes, one with the familiar red book in hand. The others were looking at screens and injecting needles in his arm. Peter was crying, screaming, and whimpering. He was only five. Large vibranium restraints were holding him down as he struggled. The HYDRA agents looked pleased. They focused on screens and notebooks as everything they saw was being written down. Then everything stopped. Peter stopped screaming and the restraints on him were released._

_"Hello Arachnid. How do you feel? Take it easy, just focus on my voice." A Doctor said in German, slowly making his way towards the boy. He seemed nicer than a regular HYDRA agent._

_Spider looked blankly at him and then suddenly attacked. He jumped on the man and held him tight around the throat. The agents in the room tried to pry the child off but to no avail. Spider clung tight as the Doctor cried and shrieked in pain. Soon, the Spider ended up tearing off both his arms. Blood spurting out violently and his dismembered arms thudding to the now blood-stained tile floor. The man lay dying on the ground. Peter attacked another agent. Everything faded and more memories popped up._

_Torture. Peter was being waterlogged. Taken out of the water only when necessary, then being shoved back in. He coughed and spluttered violently._

_Torture. Peter was being raped and touched. Whimpers and cries of pain were stifled from his lips._

_Torture. Peter was being stabbed with a red-hot poker. He was biting his lip so hard that he was bleeding. Tears rolled down his face faster than Pietro could run._

_Torture. Peter was being whipped on the back. Blood poured out and he was fully drenched. The Men had to drag his soaked and barely conscious body away._

_Spider was lying on a chair. Six years old. His shirt was off and his pants were pulled down just above the crotch, a few centimeters above his genitals. He was strapped in the chair extra tight. A Man came in with a metal pole in his hands that had a flat orange tip, something written on it. It was a brand. It read 'Hail HYDRA' backwards. Peter questioned what it was but the man only laughed._

_"You are ours, PTR Arachnid 24601. You are our most dangerous weapon. You belong to HYDRA and HYDRA only. Say it." He sneered and Peter repeated his words loud and clear. The Man praised him._

_Then, the Man shoved the brand onto Peter's stomach. It was right on his V-line, almost in-between his legs. Dangerously close to his genitals. But just below his belly button. Peter shrieked and screamed. Tears sprung from his eyes as he began sobbing. The Man only laughed and forced the brand farther into his abdomen. He repeated how Arachnid belonged to HYDRA and that he should never forget it. Peter kept crying out in pain. Wails echoed the room as he begged the man to stop. After what felt like hours but was really a minute, the Man stopped. The memory faded away._

_Spider was sitting in his cell, drawing in the dirt absentmindedly. But some unheard sound caused him to snap his head up quickly and get up just as fast. He sat straight as an arrow, all focus on the door. Soon, an agent walked in with a loaf of bread in hand, still wrapped in its bag._

_"Good evening Arachnid. Today is August 10th, your seventh birthday. As a reward, we will allow you to have a full loaf of bread." The Man tossed the bread to Peter._

_He caught it. "Thank you Sir. It is greatly appreciated." Spider stated clearly, no emotions as usual. The Man walked out and Peter was left alone once again. He sat down on the floor and opened the bag of bread. He let out the smallest smile, his eyes showing pure wonder and awe._

_"A whole loaf of bread!? I only ever get half. Wow I sure am lucky. I'll have to savour this." Spider said as he slowly took a bite, bliss washing over his face as his grin broadened. The memory was soon gone._

_Peter was now about eight years old and he was in a white room. A younger girl stood a few meters in front of him. HYDRA men stood alongside the wall, notebooks and tablets in hand. The girl was trembling and scared but Spider only showed determination. He was in a fighting stance, his eyes flicking around the girl, analyzing her._

_"Fight" a voice rung out, echoing through the plain room._

_Spider jumped into action, attacking the girl with skill and ease. The girl tried to fight back but she couldn't land any of her clumsy hits. She was knocked on her knees in front of the boy. Peter turned to one of the agents, his eyes asking a silent question. A man tossed him a gun and he turned back to the girl. Peter crouched down so he was eye-level with her crying eyes. A small flicker of other emotions appeared in his eyes quickly. Guilt. Pity. Then Spider did something a bit unexpected, his eyes growing soft yet somehow still stern._

_"Hey, hey. Shhh. It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. You'll be okay. It's not going to hurt. It's okay. Here, why don't you close your eyes?" Peter reassured her softly so the Men wouldn't hear. The girl closed her eyes. "Good, good. It's okay. Now count down from five slowly, take deep breaths."_

_Arachnid stood up and the girl started counting, her whispers were shaky and broken. His head was turned towards the Men but his gun was pointed towards the girl's head. "Four... Three... Two-" the sound of a gunshot echoed the room before she finished. Blood splattered on Peter's body. Staining his front from his toes to his nose. His eyes still remained on the agents. But this time, the chocolate-brown circles silently asked the agents 'Are you satisfied?'. The girl flopped over, dead and drenched in her own sticky blood._

_"Hail HYDRA" Peter called._

_Another person was quickly brought in. A boy a few years older than him."This is what happens when you try to escape." An agent sneered at the boy before the match began._

_Peter was, of course, stronger. But this time the agent said 'Venom'. Spider slightly hesitated but obliged. He grabbed the boy's wrist and brought it to his mouth. His grip was iron against the boy's struggles and pleads. This time, Peter didn't speak words of reassurance, he just bit and turned away. Behind his back, the boy trembled and shook. Tears poured as his flesh turned white. Strangled cries escaped his mouth. He shuddered and fell limp. His mouth and neck was covered in white foam. Peter still did not look back as the body was dragged away. "Hail HYDRA". Another memory gone._

_Spider was the same age, this time he was strapped up-right in a chair, his scarred stomach exposed. He looked extremely focused. A HYDRA man slowly circled him, barking out difficult math questions. Peter would reply correctly every time. But the one time he didn't, the agent walked over, smiled, and slashed the boy neatly across the stomach. Peter winced but didn't make any sound. The Man continued, changing the subject every once in a while, cutting Spider when he was wrong. He had five cuts by the time the memory faded away._

_Peter stood in a snowy forest, he was about nine years old. His stance was rigid and stiff like a robot. He wore simple black pants and a blood-stained white shirt. No mask or anything. His eyes portraying nearly no emotions as looked at the scene in front of him. A twinkle of regret barely haunted his pupils._

_...The scene in front of him was gruesome. There were around twenty bodies littering the forest floor like disfigured twigs. The snow was stained the colour of cherries. Guns and knives were in the hands of the people but they were blood-covered as well. Not a single person left standing. Spider just stood, watching his work. His calculating gaze was looking at what he'd done to the terrorists. Suddenly, he caught and arrow from who knows where. But it was only millimeters from between his eyebrows. Peter's eyes were still on the corpses. As soon as he caught it, the young boy launched a knife at a nearby tree. Nothing happened for a few seconds but after a bit, a body fell 13ft the ground. He had barely broken a sweat. A HYDRA agent walked up to him and he immediately straightened his posture as much as possible and said 'Hail HYDRA, Sir'. The Man congratulated him and sunk a needle with a syringe in his neck. The memory went black._

_Training matches._

_Fight. Kill them with Venom._

_Fight. Kill them with a knife._

_Fight. Choke them to death._

_Fight. Drown them._

_Fight. Beat them to death._

_Fight. Throw them against the wall._

_Fight. Suffocate them with webs._

_Fight. Set them on fire._

_A ten year old Peter stood like a soldier beside a Man wearing a uniform. Spider had a HYDRA jumpsuit on, the outfit he wore for special occasions. They appeared to be at a gathering with many higher-ups in HYDRA. Lots of important people were there talking and eating. Arachnid just stood emotionless and obediently followed one of the Men. A higher-up walked over._

_"Ah General Смирнов, good evening." The agent with Peter shook hands with the important man, a strong Italian accent accompanying his rich voice._

_"Hello Mr. Giordano. I heard this boy was your new experiment?" The higher-up spoke in a gruff voice laced with a thick Russian accent._

_"Yes, allow me to introduce PTR Arachnid 24601. 'Arachnid' for short..." Peter flinched at the nickname before returning still once more. The two men didn't notice. Mr. Giordano talked about the experiment and Peter's abilities as the other man skeptically listened. Spider meanwhile stood robotically still, all signs of humanity lost in his cold brown gaze._

_"We should have this... 'Arachnid' and the Winter Soldier meet. Fight each other, even. They are clearly both very powerful. Yes? Perhaps put them in a cell together and see what happens?" The General mused, stroking his grey beard. The memory faded._

_Arachnid and the Winter Soldier are meters apart, both donned in white training attire and standing in battle stances. Both their faces cold and calculating as always. Bucky towered over Peter but the younger boy didn't seem at all concerned as he analyzed his opponent._

_"You may begin." A Man said from behind the familiar red notebook._

_Both boys sprung into action. Kicks and punches were dished out on both sides. Their offense and defense power both equal. The fighting styles were so similar from both being trained by HYDRA. But Spider had the advantage from his abilities. His speed allowed him to maneuver around Soldier and land small blows, unbalancing the older man. Half of the time, the Soldier saw it coming though so Spider would have to dodge quickly before an attack. Thank God for his Spider Sense. Soldier may have more experience but Spider had more power and abilities._

_At one point, Soldier threw a punch at Spider with his metal arm but the latter stopped it with his bare hand. He stopped like it was nothing. Like it was a mere paper ball. Spider hadn't even flinched or seemed surprised. But Soldier sure was. His eyes flickered with disbelief and he was momentarily distracted, giving Peter an opportunity to grab the rest of his metal arm and flip him over. After that shocking event, the fighting went back to normal for awhile and the two didn't seem too tired._

_"Halt." A voice suddenly said. The assassins went completely still and returned to their normal positions, not moving an inch but their eyes still trained on each other._

_Before they knew it, both boys were being dragged and placed into the same cell._

_The two were in their cell. They looked to be the same age as the fight, but there were some fresh cuts on them, indicating it had at least been a few days. Bucky sat against one wall and Peter curled against the other._

_"Hey... Do you want to, I don't know, hear a story?" Bucky said suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the depressing silence. At the mention of a story, Peter perked up (without showing much emotion) and nodded his head vigorously, shuffling closer to the Soldier. Winter Soldier furrowed his brow, trying to remember as much as he could to tell a story. He began hesitantly, "Well I knew a man named Steve Rogers..." The memory started fading as Peter listened to the story, soaking in every word._

_Spider and Soldier were in their cell and Peter looked injured. His torso was wrapped in a slightly bloody and torn t-shirt. Bucky, on the other hand, did not have his shirt on. Guess where it was? Yes, on Peter. They were talking a bit. Soldier was telling Peter a story about the war and the boy looked very focused. They suddenly went silent and edged far away from each other. An agent opened the door and tossed their dinner in. Half a loaf of bread for Spider and a full one for Soldier. When the Man was gone, they shuffled back across from each other. Spider ate his half quickly and Bucky took his time. When the younger one still looked starved, Bucky tore off a third of his._

_"Here, take it. You got injured on your mission today. I don't want any protests. And eat this slowly. I don't want you to choke." Bucky handed him the book-sized piece of bread._

_"But-" he was cut off by a glare. "Okay. Thank you Soldier." Followed by 'No problem, kid'. Peter obliged and ate slowly, savouring each bite._

_"I miss real food." Bucky sighed, his head against the wall, facing the ceiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to remember the meals he used to eat._

_"Real food?" Peter cocked his head to the side, utter confusion displaying on his face._

_"Yeah y'know, like Spaghetti and Meat and fruit. Oh Lord, do I miss fruit."_

_"Ohhh I read about those kinds of foods in a book one of the Men gave me a year ago. It was to practice reading French."_

_"But you've never had them?" Bucky looked shocked, his head snapped around to face Peter, who looked a bit scared._

_"N-no" he stuttered meekly._

_"You are a lost cause, kid. I can try to explain, but how do you explain food to a person? It's a basic human need." Bucky groaned and did his best explaining various foods to a confused yet also fascinated Peter. He was drawing them in the dirt. The memory faded._

_More memories went by of Bucky and Peter in their cell. Each one was of them talking. Bucky told many stories to Arachnid. About Steve, the war, and the limited knowledge he had on a few of the Avengers. Other times, it'd be Soldier trying to explain things about the real world. Like foods, places, people, etc... But Bucky warned Peter he may be a bit outdated._

_"Bruce Banner and Tony Stark?" Spider echoed, a tone of question lingering. He was sitting beside Soldier, a few inches away, but his head turned to face the older man._

_"Yep. Two world-renowned scientist. Well, Tony I think is more on the 'inventor' side, but Bruce is definitely a scientist. I think you'd like their work, kid. You're the smartest person I know. If we get you out of here, I'll see if you can meet them." Bucky replied patiently but it was sort of giving false hope, the last statement. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall._

_"Woah." Was all Peter uttered, his eyes wide as saucers. "Wait aren't there other Avengers?"_

_"Yeah but I don't remember them. Just those two men." Bucky's voice slurred at the end as he fell into unconsciousness. The memory faded._

_Bucky was alone in the cell for just a moment before the door opened. They saw two Men drag a limp and seemingly lifeless body covered in blood to the center of the room. One Man just muttered 'have fun' with a smile and they both left. The door closed and the echo of footsteps faded away. As soon as the Men were far away, Bucky dropped his emotionless face and traded it for one of pure horror tinted with sadness and anger. He rushed to kneel beside Peter. The boy was bleeding heavily from his back and a bit from his face too. His originally light green shirt was now stained almost red-brown. His hair was slick with his own blood and sweat. Spider couldn't move and he barely clung to consciousness._

_"Kid? Hey kid! C'mon, keep those eyes open! Держись там, паук! (T: Hang in there, Spider)!" Bucky was frantic for the first time in forever. He tore off his own shirt and tried to sit Peter up._

_"Mm S'ldi'r? Izzat you?" Peter mumbled, his voice slurred and pain-filled. His eyes were half-lidded. He had a cut below his eye that stained half of his face red._

_"Yeah it's me. Keep your pretty eyes open. Can you do that? And try to sit up." Spider obliged and sat up weakly. Bucky slowly took off the boy's shirt as to not hurt him. He was met with a blood-drenched back and several ugly cuts. Not just cuts, whip marks too. Soldier gently dabbed the blood off with Peter's shirt._

_"Why do I g'tta st'y awake?" He mumbled but then sort of answered his own question. "Wait no, dumb quenchion. I'll j'st die, duh." Peter giggled hysterically. "Lemme try again. How do I g'tta st'y 'wake?" Arachnid tried as he winced from pain, but he still had a dopey smile plastered on his face._

_"Tell me a story."_

_"Ain't got no stories here S'ldi'r" Peter said matter-o-factly, but his voice was so woozy and wavering that Soldier couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh._

_"I know. Tell me about Steve."_

_"Steeb? You know Steeb but okaaaayyyy." The Spider sounded high and he kept giggling like a fangirl reading a fanfic._

_Bucky just sighed and finished tying his shirt around Spider's skinny torso. The boy blabbered semi-incoherently about the time Steve got his foot stuck in a chair. And one of the times Soldier had to save Steve from a guy punching him in an alley. Bucky just laughed a bit here and there as he worked. The soldier went to Peter's front. He tore off the end of his pants to use as a bandage. Carefully, he cleaned Peter's face, holding his chin up with his metal hand. He couldn't attach the fabric to use as a bandage so he just held it there. The older assassin coaxed Spider into lying down side ways with his head on his lap, Bucky still keeping the fabric in place._

_The door opened and in flew their bread. Yay. Bucky had to help Peter eat first because Peter was already barely clinging onto consciousness. When Spider managed to finish his half, Winter decided to give him half of his own._

_"Wait no. You gotta eat S'ldier." The boy mumbled weakly, trying and failing to push what Bucky was offering him away._

_Bucky shook his head, forcing a small smile. "I ate half of mine. You need it more, kid. No protesting."_

_Spider grabbed the bread unexpectedly, tore it in half, and gave one half to Soldier. "Mm 'No pr'testin''" He smiled weakly and Bucky just huffed in annoyance and amusement, taking his morsel. When they were done, Soldier checked his injuries, deeming them fine now._

_"Hey, kid, you can sleep now. You did a good job." Bucky whispered soothingly. Peter immediately was out. The memory faded._

_Bucky was curled up in the corner of the cell but Peter was pacing softly, something clearly on his mind._

_"What're ya thinkin', kid? The pacin' is gettin' annoyin'." He sighed and looked up at the boy._

_Spider stopped dead in his tracks, turned to face Bucky, and quietly asked, "Do I have a name?"_

_Bucky was a bit surprised. Peter sat down across from him. "What do you mean? Like, other than 'PTR Arachnid 24601'?" The child nodded. "I don't know. I don't know your name."_

_"The Men say that only special people get names. People like them. Not me." He stated plainly._

_"Who gives a rats ass about what the Men think? Not me." Bucky chuckled dryly and let his eyes close once more._

_It was silent for a while but Peter asked another question. "Hey Soldier? Do you have a name?"_

_Bucky paused. "Yeah, I do. Just don't remember it. All I know is that it starts with a 'B'." Peter hummed in response and the memory ended._

_"Is the world pretty?" Peter asked in a small voice, curled up in the corner._

_Bucky replied from where he was lying with his eyes closed on the floor. He never hesitated in giving his answer, "It's beautiful. Can't even begin to describe it."_

_"What are your favourite parts about it?"_

_"I love sunsets and sunrises. The rain is amazing too. Most people hate it though. Not me." Barnes shook his head side to side, still staring at the stone ceiling. He smiled at the thought of rain._

_"Why do people hate rain?"_

_"Have you ever been in rain?"_

_"No. But I've been in snow. Though I don't really remember any of it. Just that I've been in it." Peter's lips pursed, deep in thought._

_"Jeez. Can't believe you haven't been in rain. One of the best things in the world. People hate rain 'cause it soaks 'em and can be hard to have your eyes open."_

_"Rain is water that falls from the sky, right?"_

_"Yep. That's right. Sometimes it's a lot. Sometimes it's only a little. Plenty of people avoid it when possible. I don't. I think it's nice. My mama always told me that rain meant the heavens were crying."_

_"Why would they be crying?"_

_"'Cause the world is broken and they can't fix it. They get sad when bad things happen. Sure, the world is pretty, but it's also corrupt." Bucky exhaled sharply and continued, "Y'know, Stevie used to hate rain."_

_"Really?"_

_"Mhm. Always caught colds after gettin' soaked. Never understood why I loved it so much. When the war happened, we both got soaked a lot more. Rain makes mud, too. Wasn't very pleasant. Stevie just ended up hating rain even more. Eventually, I didn't like it so much. I got annoyed by it and decided to not go out unless I had to. But now," the soldier took a deep, reminiscing breath, "I miss rain more than I could ever imagine. Miss all the little pitter-patter noises it made when it bounced off the ground. Miss how everything was shiny after a good downpour. Miss the puddles to splash in and the way cars sprayed the water everywhere. It's lots of fun."_

_Spider closed his eyes and imagined water pouring from the heavens. It sounded weird but nice at the same time. He guessed even the heavens got sad sometimes._

_"Hey Soldier?" He received a grunt, "What about sunrises and sunsets?"_

_"They're even harder to describe. Like if you took a bunch of colours and smeared them across the sky. Red, orange, pink, purple, blue, and yellow. Sometimes even green. Just a big ol' rainbow up there. Makes you feel all warm and tender inside."_

_"They sound pretty." Peter felt almost... Disappointed that he couldn't see the beauty of the world._

_"They are." The older agreed, pitying the boy. "When we get outta here, I'll take you to see the prettiest sunrise in New York, how bout that? And if it rains, then we'll stay out and let the rain soak us to the skin."_

_Spider smiled sadly, knowing it was false hope to cheer him up, "Yeah, that sounds nice."_

_Peter was sitting in the cell, drawing. It was two people but Wanda's mind wasn't close enough in Spider's to see. The door opened and in walked Soldier, sighing and sitting down._

_"How was training? What did you do?" Spider asked quietly still drawing the two people._

_"I think it went well. Apparently some HYDRA agent was leaking info to the outside so they asked me to give them a slow death while they watched. I just shot 'em one limb at a time and then finally their head. Then I just did some combat training with knives." Soldier said. Peter just hummed in response, never taking his eyes off his picture. "What are you drawing?"_

_"Us" Bucky looked over and sure enough, there was a very good drawing of the two of them talking._

_"Hey that's really good, kid. Do you know who else loved to draw?" Peter shook his head, looking up at the man."Steve." The younger boy genuinely smiled._

_"You're bleeding from your arm." Peter remarked, already tearing off a few inches from the hem of his shirt._

_"It's nothing, kid. Don't worry." Spider just shook his head and tied the fabric around his cut. "Thanks." Peter nodded briefly, going back to his side of the room.The door opened. A Man walked in. Both boys shuffled away from each other and Spider erased his art._

_"PTR Arachnid 24601, it is August tenth, your twelfth birthday. Here is a full loaf of bread." The Man gave both of the assassins their loaves. When he left, they ate their bread quietly and finished quickly._

_"Hey uh, Soldier?" Soldier hummed in acknowledgement. "You're Steve's friend right?... Steve's lucky to have a friend like you." Bucky scoffed. "What?"_

_"Steve ain't lucky to have a friend like me. He's dead and I'm working as an assassin for the organization we tried to destroy. The organization he died trying to get rid of. If he saw me now he'd hate me."_

_"That's not true! It's not even your fault HYDRA captured you. If– if it's worth anything, I think you're cool."_

_"You're a good kid, Spider. Sometimes too good. You got a big heart just like Steve."_

_Peter smiled at the thought of being like Steve. The conversation was over and they sat in silence._

_Peter timidly decided to break the silence, "...What's a friend?" He said hesitantly._

_Bucky stared at the boy. "I- what? How do I even explain this. Er well... A friend is someone who you're close to. You spend time with them and get to know them. You build a strong connection with them and are able to trust and rely on them. You can tell them anything and they won't judge. You can laugh, cry, joke, tell stories and do whatever you want with them. You trust them with your life. Steve's my friend. ...I think that's a decent description...?"_

_A long pause. "...Are you my friend, Soldier?"_

_A shorter pause,"I think so. Well, normally this ain't how you gain a friend. We'd be in the real world doing normal human things. But yeah, in some twisted way, we are friends."_

_Peter smiled at Bucky's answer. "Friends... I like the sound of that". He yawned sleepily and shivered, "I'm cold."_

_"C'mere" Spider shuffled over beside Soldier who was sitting against the wall. "Closer. Relax, I won't bite." Peter hesitated–not used to the closeness–but sat right next to him. Bucky swung his metal arm over his shoulder and pulled the younger boy close to his body. Peter was stiff for a few moments before relaxing into his warmth, muttering "Mm y're warm" before falling asleep._

_"Goodnight, kid. Happy 12th Birthday". Bucky said softly and he fell asleep, his arms over the boy in a protective manner. It ended._

_It was barely three months later and the two assassins woke in their cell. They waited for their orders. A Man walked in and called for the Winter Soldier. Bucky stood and walked towards the Man, facing him, waiting for further information. The HYDRA agent muttered something so quietly to Bucky that all Peter heard was 'mission'._

_Bucky nodded and just before he left with the Man, he turned to Peter, "I'll be back. And I'll get you the hell out of here." His voice was so low and rough that only Spider heard. Bucky was gone before the kid could say anything._

_A few months later, when Spider was still twelve, he was branded once again. Partly out of frustration from the Men because the Winter Soldier left. But also because they needed to remind the boy that he was important, belonged to them, and was their most prized/dangerous possession/weapon._

_It looked to be a year later and Bucky had not returned. Peter sat quietly, reciting a story to himself. When he was done, he turned to the wall behind him. It was partially covered in tick marks. Spider scratched one in._

_"Three hundred and seventy-two days since Soldier left." He sighed sadly and a Man came to take him somewhere. The memory faded._

_Three hundred and ninety-nine. "Soldier where are you?"_

_Four hundred and twenty. "Did you forget me?"_

_Four hundred and thirty-one. "You're supposed to get me out, remember?"_

_Four hundred and fifty-six. "Please come back."_

_"Hey Soldier... I was on a mission and something happened..." Peter was close to crying. "I think I got Claustrophobia. When I was training after the mission, my opponent fell on top of me and I freaked out. They figured out I had Claustrophobia and told me what it was. Now, sometimes they torture me by locking me in a box." He was crying, curling in on himself and muffling his tears with the moldy old pillow. It ended._

_Four hundred and sixty. "I'm begging you, come back."_

_Peter was crying into his hands, soft but ugly sobs being let out once in awhile. "H-hey. I'm s-s-sorry. I f-forgot your n-name. And what you l-look like. I-I've gone through so many brainwashes. Please f-forgive me. A-all I remember are the stories you would tell me. The ones about S-Steve and the war. And the things you told me about the real world. My mind is so foggy after they put a chip in my neck. I c-can't remember anything. And now they call me the W-Winter Spider, like you." Peter's body was shaking violently, racked with sobs, as he tried to quiet his cries to the best of his ability. He kept mumbling 'sorry' over and over until suddenly he cried out in pain. Spider clutched his head as he writhed on the floor, searing pain consuming him._

_A Man walked in and Peter stood up. He spoke in Russian, "How are you Winter Spider?"_

_"Ready to comply, sir." 'Winter Spider' responded in the same tongue, looking the farthest from human he ever has looked. His eyes were even tinted red. The memory faded._

_Seven hundred and sixty-nine. Winter Spider was older. His face was completely emotionless, but his eyes were haunted. "Good-bye friend. Sorry I couldn't tell you before. I still have hope you'll return. It's probably stupid though, me waiting on you. You'll never come back. Let's face it. I was just a burden in your life. An annoying one. And now you're gone. At least I have the stories you told me. I miss you, by the way. You and your stories about everything. The war, Steve, all the kinds of food and places. I hope you're alive and safe. I know this is impossible but maybe Steve is still alive. I hope you found him. And the other Avengers too. I hope you have a happy life now. I-I'll just be going now. Good-bye." Peter sniffed slightly but was soon consumed by pain again before the memory faded._

_The memory was the day Winter Spider was captured. He woke up from a nightmare and scratched a tick on the wall, "1201 days since the man with the stories left". He left his cell with a Man._

_He went through rape today, only got one cut during schooling, and killed two people, one with a gun and one with venom. When Peter was back in his cell, a Man told him they were under attack from the Avengers. Spider suited up and ran towards the gunshots and explosions. I wonder who's attacking? He thought. (Wanda could hear his thoughts because of how recent the memory is). Peter arrived on scene and saw the Avengers, his eyes widened a bit._ Steve. That's really Steve. From the stories. He looks like how he was described _. Peter realized, his thoughts sounding very hopeful. A Man walked up and ordered the boy to exterminate the Avengers. He injected a needle in Spider's neck and his thoughts quickly changed. His sane side was gone in a flash. Now, his mind was clouded with anger and the desire to kill. All positive thoughts about the Avengers were turned into evil ones. The Man repeated something to him but his sane side didn't hear, it was up to his inhumane side now. It was time to murder a few heroes._

Just like that, everyone was suddenly back in the Med room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord kill me now. I just wrote 6000+ words. My record. My hands are ready to die. The reason why this chapter is so long is because it's all a memory sequence. Every day while writing this, more interactions between the two HYDRA assassins popped in my head I couldn't not write them. That's be evil. And I didn't want to split it into two chapter because: 1) I want one chapter for just his memories. And 2) If I split this chapter in two, it'd be too short and I wouldn't be able to write such a suspenseful ending. Anyway, thanks for dealing with this encyclopedia-long chapter! See you next time.
> 
> ~Swindle


	8. Ch 7-Chips and Blood Samples

**3rd POV (everyone in the last chapter)**

Wow. Just wow. There were no words for what the Avengers had seen in the mindscape of Peter's memories. The mindscape had faded and everyone was back in Spider's room, positioned exactly as they had been before. For once, even Tony and Natasha were at a loss for words. Everybody just stood still. Unmoving. Trying to process what they just witnessed. Tears. There were tears on everyone's faces. Expressions of sadness, shock, disbelief, pity. You name it. Steve had his arm wrapped around Tony and Clint was rubbing circles on Pietro's back. Natasha was having Red Room flashbacks. But Bucky and Wanda were especially bad. They both awoke past memories and relived their nightmares. By the time it was over they were shaking in their chairs with tears pouring like waterfalls. Wanda was clutching her head in pain, Peter's memories being almost too much for her head to handle.

It was silent for a long time.

The clock ticked.

Their brains were moving at a mile a minute.

Everyone looked between Peter, Wanda, Bucky, and whatever was in front of them.

Wanda and Bucky removed their bands and the one on Peter's head.

Tony broke the silence.

"Hey FRIDAY?" He didn't wait for a response. "You got that saved, right?"

" _Yes, sir_." She responded politely in a tone that sounded almost soft and reassuring.

"Saved?" Clint asked meekly.

"Yeah." Tony nodded and continued. "The box that connects Wanda's band holds everything we saw. I worked with the Wizard to integrate science and magic. It was difficult but this was the best we could come up with. It's part of FRIDAY. Now the box can hook up to a computer or a TV and directly play the memories we saw."

"Oh."

Silence again.

"Bucky..." Steve began but trailed off.

Bucky was sitting tensely, his metal arm was gripping his leg so tightly it would leave a bruise. His eyes were trained on the wall, not looking at anyone else. Not even Peter. Small tears were spilling from his eyes and his jaw was clenched.

"Did you know about everything Peter went through? I mean, while you were still there?" Our favourite Star-Spangled man tried again.

"No." He said so softly it was barely a whisper. Soldier cleared his throat, "No." He repeated louder. "I didn't. Th-there was a rule we had. A silent and unspoken rule. It was to never ask about what happened when the Men took you away unless it was for something random that isn't in the normal routine. We didn't like talking about what happened. I just assumed that we got the same treatment. I-I was wrong. So, so wrong. They did so much more to him." Bucky's voice cracked a few times and he buried his face in his hands. He didn't need to see the pitying looks on the Avenger's faces. And he didn't need them to see him crying.

He heard footsteps near his chair and before he knew it, Natasha was guiding him outside the room and towards the elevator. She spoke softly to him in Russian but the man didn't pay attention. His thoughts were drowning in his and Peter's memories. Why couldn't he protect Spider? Why wasn't he there for him? Why couldn't he just tell him that everything would be okay and _actually_ mean it? Why didn't he go back for his friend sooner? Why? Why!? _Why_!? His vision was blurry and his head was aching. Soldier felt over-exhausted and stressed.

Bucky was vaguely aware that he was in his room. He was vaguely aware that there was a fresh cup of tea beside him and that he was surrounded by pillows and blankets. He was vaguely aware of the music playing in the background.

_'Quand il me prend dans ses bras_

_Qu'il me parle tout bas_

_Je vois la vie en rose...'_

There were apple-scented candles lit. His favourite. And the lights were off, along with shut curtains. Soon, Bucky's senses were calmed and his mind was at peace. The warm and relaxing environment lulled him to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Natasha just finished helping Bucky get to his room and relax. As soon as they left the mindscape, she could easily sense his heightened tenseness and saw the bags under his eyes. So, being the awesome friend she is, Natasha quickly set up his room and made him tea. Normally, she'd stay with him and talk. However, Bucky looked ready to fall asleep so she silently shut the door and made her way back to the elevator.

" _Excuse me, Ms. Romanoff, I should inform you that the Avengers just arrived in the common room._ " FRIDAY's voice rung out politely.

"Thank you, FRIDAY."

" _Not a problem_." She replied pleasantly.

Natasha got in the elevator and she didn't even have to say anything before FRIDAY took her to the common room. When she walked in, the others were just sitting down and silently discussing some things. Dr. Banner and the twins were missing though, (aside from Bucky of course).

Steve looked up at her from he was standing begin the couch. "How is he?" His pained expression was hard to look at.

"He's fine. And he will be. Over time. He's sleeping right now so don't go bothering him." Natasha stated with a weak smile as she strode past the soldier to sit on the couch beside Rhodey.

"Look, I'll cut straight to it. Did anyone notice anything particularly... Human... About Peter? Something that wasn't HYDRA-made." Tony asked the group curtly.

They all paused and thought before Clint spoke up.

"The killing. The way he kills." The archer paused when everyone else except maybe Natasha looked confused. "Didn't you notice? Every time he kills somebody in his 'training' or whatever, he doesn't watch them die. But he watches his enemies die. And he _fights_ mercilessly without the bat of an eye. Yet _killing_ seems difficult. Why?"

It clicked for them.

"You're right, man. The kid always looked away. Like whatever trance he was in before was broken. Like he got his... mind back. He realized what was happening. It was way more noticeable after that freakish chip thing was put in." Sam cut in from where he was perched on the arm of the couch.

"So... HYDRA must have put something in him to fight willingly and without mercy. But for some reason he managed to not look when killing them. Almost as if it were a fear...?" Steve questioned and muttered as he paced.

"Maybe it was a fear. Speaking of chips in the neck... That one he received did something to him. From the look of the HYDRA agents and the way Spider acted after, it's complex technology. Not just a tracker." Clint rubbed his temples.

"FRIDAY, does Bruce still have the chip?" Tony asked.

" _Yes, sir. He plans on leaving it with you so you can do with it as you please_."

The man thanked the AI and looked at the (current) rest of the Avengers again.

After further discussion, they concluded that the chip must've been something that influenced Spider's actions and most likely thoughts as well. The random bouts of pain they saw, followed by pure emotionless actions was definitely caused by the chip. (Since they were after the chip was put in). But they weren't sure about before that.

"Yeah but what about before the chip, huh? Was Peter listening to them on his own accord? 'Cause I don't think so." Rhodey spoke for the first time, shaking his head in confusion and disbelief.

"I can't figure that out. He didn't seem to have any metal body parts like Bucky. If he did, I doubt they would've put that chip there. We can ask Peter when he wakes up. Or look back on the footage. In the meantime, we should get some sleep. It's late." Steve said with a pointed look at his husband. Tony just rolled his eyes and groaned. Alas, he admitted, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist was indeed tired.

It was decently late. 11:39 to be exact. They were all physically and emotionally drained.

Begrudgingly, the Avengers went their separate ways off to bed.

But questions that were impossible to ignore still lurked in their minds.

Why was Peter so obedient all the time? Was there something they didn't see? Were the brainwashes _that_ powerful? Did Peter just obey without question? There were too many unanswered questions. Sadly, they'd have to wait until the chip and blood samples were done being looked at. Who knows when that would be.

Everyone slept somewhat soundly. The exhaustion and work of the last 24 hours took a toll on them. Not even dreams or nightmare captured their sleep that night.

However, the famous billionaire by the name of Tony Stark did not sleep very soundly. Well- more like he woke up at 2:49am and never fell back asleep. After about twenty minutes lying awake in bed thinking of Spider and not feeling sleepy, the man gave up. He groaned and got up, making sure not to wake Steve up in the process. Tony pulled on an MIT sweater and kept the sweats he was in. Sighing softly, he creeped out of the room, shooting one last love-filled gaze at his husband.

Coffee was needed. So he made a detour to the common room. Tony made a pot of black coffee and brought two mugs of it with him. He knew it wouldn't last him very long but it's good for now.

One fact about Tony was that he never liked the empty halls and elevators of his tower at night. They were too lonely. Usually, they're bustling with either the loud Avengers or the employees and interns. Walking towards the elevator felt way too unsettling. Stark's anxiety mixed with excitement about blood samples and neck chips caused him to be very jittery and impatient. His foot tapped mercilessly on the cold floor. Waiting for the elevator felt like he was waiting for a snail to cross the room. Too slow. He could take the stairs but he didn't really think of that. Why can't the damn elevator get here faster? It's not like there were any employees in the building. Just some security guards, the Avengers, and maybe some of Bruce's overnight scientists. Agh. FRIDAY!

Tony sighed impatiently and fished out his phone. 3:14am.

 _Ding_.

 _Finally! Oh thank God_. Tony rushed into the empty elevator. There were 93 floors and his private lab was on floor 91. He shared that floor with Bruce's private lab and another empty one he never used. The common room was floor 90. His and Steve's apartment, along with Pepper's and the guest rooms for the Asgardians and Wakandans were on floor 93. The other apartments and rooms were on floor 92. Though the two apartment floors and the labs were accessible through the staircases in the common floor as well as the elevator.

"Take me to my lab FRIDAY." He demanded impatiently. She didn't respond, only took him up a floor.

The doors opened and Tony turned left, walking a few paces down the glass-walled hall to his lab door on the right of the three. But beside his own door, he spotted Bruce through the glass in his own lab. All three labs on this floor were separated by glass so you could see what's going on. (Unless you asked FRIDAY to dim the glass). They were connected by doors inside. Tony's had a view of the common room and some of New York– through large window in the common room. Bruce had the same as Stark but smaller, whilst the spare room had a direct and wide view of New York. On the outside, it was just three doors, each one leading to one of the labs. (The hall could be used for viewing and tours). To the right of the elevator, stairs curled downwards and to the left alongside the wall. Of course for the labs, you need a keycard with the highest clearance to get in. The spare lab sat across from Tony's, forever remaining untouched.

Tony was about to turn back and go into his lab but he took a double-take. Bruce was asleep. Okay, not surprising at all. He pulled almost as many all-nighters as Stark. Dr. Banner was hunched over on one side of the room, his head sideways on the table. Beside his right arm was a metal stand carefully holding a tiny, almost unseeable, chip between its pincers. Bruce had a small set of tweezers in one hand and a pencil in the other. A hologram the size of a binder was illuminated off to the side of the table.

Stark chuckled and went inside his own lab. He didn't need a card. He was Tony fucking Stark. The lights turned on but not brightly as to hurt his eyes. Thanks FRIDAY.

"FRIDAY, play some AC/DC. But not loud. I'm too tired for that."

" _How unusual, boss. But of course_." You could almost hear the joking tone in her realistic voice. " _Dr. Banner would like me to inform you that if he is to fall asleep–as he has–you should wake him up immediately to talk about Mr. Parker. I believe he knew you would wake and come here._ " Then Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC started playing at a low volume.

"Thank you, FRIDAY." Tony set one of the coffee cups down and turned on his heels to leave the lab, humming Shoot to Thrill as he went. 'Of course, boss' was the last thing he heard before he exited the room and entered Bruce's lab.

"Hey Bruce. Wake up, bud. FRI told me you said we gotta talk." Tony shook his science bro.

"Wha? Tony? Izzat you?" Bruce lifted his head and lazily readjusted his glasses. Then he realized what was going on and leapt into action. "Right! Okay so I didn't want to do anything before you got here. You'd pout for days if you missed anything. So I just made sure the tracker was disabled and took a few notes about the appearance." Bruce said as be collected himself and rubbed his forehead in attempt to wake up.

"Hey! Rude." Tony looked mock-offended, but the smile on his face did nothing to hide his fake feelings. Dr. Banner wasn't wrong, he'd be upset if he missed anything.

The two went back to Tony's lab with the chip and blood samples. They talked for awhile about the chip and Tony informed him of what him and the Avengers noticed about Peter. Bruce agreed about the controlling and the likely possibility of the chip having an impact on Spider.

Tony placed the blood sample in a glass and metal cube, attaching a small wire inside the blood. "FRIDAY, analyze this blood sample."

" _Yes, boss. Approximate time of completion is sixty minutes_."

The science bros thanked her and went back to the chip. They took it apart and ran several tests. They even took a look at scans of Peter's brain and other vitals.

Nearly an hour went by and they were so close to cracking this. To cracking what this chip did to Peter. It was as if the answer was right under their noses. They got everything they could but something was missing. This was one big puzzle but one piece wasn't found in the box. They had found a hollow part inside the little chip. It was obviously used to hold something but they didn't know what. And the chip could be sending signals to the brain but that would have to be manually done, right? How come everything it did seem to be automatic? The science bros were so tired that they wouldn't be surprised if it was just fatigue keeping them from figuring this out. Tony was down six cups of coffee and Bruce had fallen asleep for ten minutes before waking up again.

It was currently 4:34am.

Sighing, the bros took a break. It was early and they were groggy. They needed sleep but they also needed to figure this out.

Led Zeppelin cut out suddenly, causing their eyes to snap open.

" _The analogy of Mr. Parker's blood is complete. It should appear as a hologram in front of you_."

A moment of silence and the hologram appeared. Eyes blurred with fatigue frantically scanned everything they could. When they were done, the same pairs of eyes widened. Tony and Bruce side-glanced each other at the same time. They spoke in unison.

"...This makes so much more sense."


	9. Ch 8-"Speak English, please. Not Science."

**Science bros POV**

The bros looked back and forth between each other and the screen, making sure they weren't hallucinating. They _were_ pretty tired, after all.

But alas, they had cracked it. The solution for Spider's behaviours was in front of them, presented as a beautiful hologram. Courtesy of FRIDAY, of course.

The men stood up in a flash. They couldn't wait until everyone woke up later. It was time to tell them _now_.

"FRI, wake everybody up and tell them to meet us here now. But don't wake Barnes, he needs to sleep." Tony asked.

" _They have been told, boss_."

A few minutes of pacing and re-reading/re-examining the info later, the Avengers (minus Bucky) trudged into the lab. Clint was muttering in annoyance about beauty sleep while Pietro just scoffed and rolled his eyes beside him. Other than the archer, everyone looked semi-alert. Probably because they were being called to a meeting so early in the morning.

"What's the problem you two?" Natasha asked, eyeing the two scientists skeptically.

"Yeah, why you gotta wake us up so early? 'S not even five yet." Clint grumbled, his words slurred minutely.

"We figured it out." A pause of sleep confusion followed Tony's words. He continued, "We think we know why Peter has been acting that way."

 _That_ caught their attention. The team of heroes was now on full alert. Even Clint looked more lively.

"So, care to explain?" Sam asked with a stifled yawn.

"Yeah we're getting to that, Bird-brain."

Dr. Banner started, "According to this, Peter's cerebrum has been significantly altered thanks to the fluid-enhanced signals transmitted from the chip. The neurological-" **(A/N I know nothing of science. Sorry if it's inaccurate. Don't come for me).**

"Wait, wait, wait, stop." Clint butted in, waving his arms in an aggressive 'halt' motion.

"Hm?"

"Speak English, please. Not science."

Bruce just sighed. "Care to take it from here, Tony?"

The billionaire faced Bruce. "Alrighty then, green bean. Okay, I'll explain it to you guys in E n g l i s h." Tony turned back around to face the others. The man sighed deeply. "Ugh, how am I going to go about doing this?..." He muttered to himself, his hand resting on his chin in a thoughtful way.

"Okay, so... The chip supposedly acts like Barnes' arm. But it's a lot more advanced."

Bruce cut in. "I've never seen this stuff before." He admitted and everyone except Tony looked shocked. Dr. Bruce Banner. Not knowing some tech? Unheard of.

"I have." Tony cut the silence. Incredulous looks were directed to him.

"I have." He repeated, then took a deep breath. "I knew a... Botanist of sorts working with Chemically Modified Genetics– that's how she put it. A fluid that could inject into your bloodstream and... Change you. It's how I call my Ironman suits."

"I thought it was a chip." Dr. Banner said.

"No, I used her science. I haven't since." He took another deep breath. "Didn't want to revisit that whole spiel." Tony thought of what happened with Killian before rushing to continue. "This fluid... It's different– not that much different, but there's something different about it. I think the best way to put it is that the chip is... Directly linked to Peter's brain and most likely, genetic code."

"Directly linked? That's not possible, is it?" Natasha tilted her head in confusion.

"Well it is. And it has something to do with a weird fluid-thing. This fluid is practically indestructible. It clings to cells and DNA like a koala to a tree. Peter's enhanced healing seems to be able to wear it down surprisingly fast, but we're not sure how it keeps replenishing. We found some other harmless thing in his bloodstream that seems to be connected to this fluid. Anyway, the fluid latches onto anything it can. Including Peter's brain, muscles, nerves, DNA, and cells–everything that makes him who he is. It leeches HYDRA's info and commands into his own system. It turns him into a HYDRA soldier with the help of transmitted messages placed in the chip. Which means that HYDRA doesn't even control him. The chip does. This fluid is so advanced that it can even pick up things like emotions, thoughts, memories, and feelings like it has a mind of its own. It warps those things until they are what HYDRA wants them to be. As soon as Peter remembers something that HYDRA doesn't want him to, the fluid takes over, reminding him that he's HYDRA'S weapon. It wipes all emotions, thoughts, and memories he has–which is why he has those painful episodes followed by blankness. None of his thoughts or actions are his own, just the fluid's. However, I think– my understanding is that Peter is still there when the fluid takes over. He's just not... In control. Thankfully, the fluid isn't permanent, just not easily rid-able." Tony took a deep breath. "Mind you, this might not all be accurate. It's just what the scans portray, taking his actions and brain scans into consideration." He scratched the back of his neck and averted his gaze, a habit he has when he's rambling or nervous.

Silence.

Long, painful silence.

Everybody soaked this info in, relaying it in their heads.

Steve spoke up first.

"Is there- is there a way to get him back?"

Stark looked at the charts again, ready to answer. But Bruce spoke up first.

"Yes. Luckily there is. Due to the fact that this chip isn't as permanent as something such as Bucky's arm, Peter should be able to return to himself faster. However, considering how advanced this technology is and because it was developed by HYDRA, it's more powerful than an arm. It could be harder for Peter to fight this than for Bucky. The only problem is that Peter won't know how to act normal, per se. He doesn't know how to act like a normal person. That's going to make his rehabilitation a lot more difficult."

"When will he be... More normal?" Pietro asked quietly.

"It's impossible to say right now. For Bucky it took–what, a year or two? I'd say about a year for Peter. But like I said, it's impossible to say right now." Bruce yawned and made a poor attempt at adjusting his glasses.

More painful silence.

Worry filled the Avengers' faces, contorting their features negatively.

Tony sighed, sensing the anxiety. "Relax guys, he'll be okay... Eventually" he added the last under his breath. "He might be, y'know, scarred about the whole thing after discovering the normal world. And have some mental disorders and nightmares, but... Jeez I'm bad with emotions." Tony shuddered. "You get what I'm saying." He made a gesture with his hand as he used the other one to take a sip from his MIT mug.

Bruce scanned the info for what seemed like the thousandth time. Something sparkled in his eyes and his head whipped to face the others. "I found something I didn't think of. Without the chip, the fluid slowly stops receiving signals and wears off, eventually dying out without its main info source. So it could take Peter even less time to get better since the chip was already destroyed." He smiled, but then his face fell a bit. "Sadly, because of how long the chip was in his neck and the fluid in his body, he might have _habits_ of sorts."

"Habits?" Sam asked, his arms crossed.

Bruce nodded his head. "After he recovers from the fluid and stops all the soldier action stuff, he'll still have habits. Or– 'instinctive reactions' is a better way to put it. Things that are hard wired in his brain. Like... Certain things that remind him of his HYDRA experience will set him off, causing him to slip back into his other mode. I'm not sure how long it will last but it'll definitely happen."

"So lemme get this straight– Peter has a chip in his neck that sends signals to fluid. That fluid morphs him into 'something else' when he has memories or whatever of things. It'll take him awhile to get rid if these things when he gets better. And he's fifteen." Clint said, in all seriousness.

Tony dead-panned. "Yes Clint. He's fifteen. Is that– is that all you took away from this?"

"Peter is who he is normally and the Winter Spider is who HYDRA made him to be. Just like Bucky and the Winter Soldier." Natasha spoke up.

"Basically."

She hummed in response.

The next few minutes were spent just going over everything they learned and discussing how to approach the situation. Bruce was completely out cold. He had fell asleep only seconds after Tony said 'Basically'.

"Who's going to tell Bucky?" Clint asked as they were about to leave.

All eyes turned to Steve.

"Why me!?" Steve protested. "I'm not good with science things. I failed that class in school."

"You're closest to the man. He'll feel comfortable with you and less likely to... Do something." Tony mumbled from where he was hunched over on a desk, half asleep.

More staring later, "Fine!" The man flailed his hands in the air and sighed in defeat. "It's your fault if he's mad though." He then walked out and into the elevator, muttering to himself the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite it being slightly shorter than normal. I'm not a scientist so forgive me for everything wrong with this chapter. I'm actually quite proud of what I came up with. I also debated on Natasha saying 'Ok boomer' after Tony said 'Basically' but decided against it because it would be too out of character. Also when Clint said 'Wait, wait, wait stop', I was going for the 'Stop, stop, stop where' from the Michael with a b vine. 
> 
> See you entity's later!
> 
> ~Swindle


	10. Ch 9-Important meeting

**3rd POV**

So Bucky took the news surprisingly well. Why don't we recap?...

_Steve knocked on Bucky's door at 8:30 am, only hours after the news about Peter. Bucky had slept a long time–which is not normal–and the Captain knew he'd be awake at this hour._

_"Come in." A gruff voice called out. Steve opened the door to reveal Bucky just sitting on his bed with his head in his hands._

_"'Morning Buck. I have some news." Steve leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed but his expression warm. Bucky looked up and blue eyes met another pair of blue eyes._

_"Good or bad."_

_The blond took a deep breath and began explaining everything to the best of his abilities. He relayed what the two scientists had said and Bucky just stared at him the entire time. When he was done, Steve took a deep breath and glanced at his friend with wary eyes. He wasn't afraid of the other man or what he'd do to him. No, he was afraid of his reaction. Bucky could unpredictable these days. His face showed no emotion. The furrow in his eyebrows only gave away that he was thinking._

_The two maintained eye contact for a long–and uncomfortable–period of time. Until Bucky quickly raised up and off the bed, still looking at the blond with an unreadable expression. He walked forward, slowly approaching Steve, who stood very still. When they were face-to-face, Bucky just wrapped his arms around Steve's torso and buried his face in his shoulder. The taller soldier reciprocated and hugged the brunette back._

_"Thank you." He breathed, sinking into Steve's arms._

_The blond let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Don't thank me, thank Bruce and Tony." He chuckled._

_A moment passed and Bucky pulled away, speaking again. "I'm just glad there's some way to get him back. Even if he doesn't remember me." Steve swore he saw a tear ghost his eye._

_"He will."_

Now, it was 11:00am and the Avengers were holding a meeting to discuss how to approach this situation.

"Alright so by now you all know about Peter's chip and the weird mind-controlling stuff. But now what are we going to do with this information?" Bruce started from where he was standing in front of them all.

"Certain things are going to trigger him. If any one of us are going to approach him when he wakes up, it has to be someone he doesn't know and doesn't remind him of something. He knows about Steve and Bucky, Tony too. They're in danger if he sees them." Natasha said from her seat beside Clint.

An 'Oh gee, I'm touched' was heard from Tony's barely awake existence as he placed a hand over his heart.

"That rules out those three then. Bucky, is there anyone else you told him about?" Bruce continued, looking from Tony to Bucky.

"You." The man responded.

"Okay. I'm out too then. That leaves Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Pietro, Sam, Vision, and Rhodey, I believe."

Everyone nodded.

"Wait no. He saw most of us when he fought us during his rescue. That gets rid of Sam, Rhodey, Natasha, and Clint. I'm sure they wouldn't affect him because it's not a long-term memory but you never know." Steve pointed out.

"Good thinking. So... Pietro, Wanda, or Vision. Who will it be?" Natasha asked.

"Witch." Tony blurted out from his seat.

Bruce just looked at him strangely–thinking he said 'which'–before responding to the question. "Let's think about this sensibly. I don't think Vision is a good choice. He doesn't have human emotions, despite his programming. No offense, Vision."

"I don't believe any was taken" Vision replied calmly from where he was floating at the back of the room.

Bruce continued, "He's incredibly smart, sure, but he lacks the empathy and human connection to talk to Peter in a manner that will keep him calm and not trigger anything."

"Well I don't think Pietro is the best choice either. Sorry Pietro." Natahsa looked deep in thought. Pietro just raised his hands in mock-surrender and smiled. "In my opinion, he won't be able to contain Peter if something goes wrong. He may be good at human connection and being friendly, but it's not the same with someone like Peter in his current state." Pietro held a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry Pietro but you're just not the guy for this."

The silver-haired teen smiled and laughed. He turned to Wanda, "Don't worry. But that leaves you little sis, doesn't it? I admit, I didn't see that coming."

Clint rolled his eyes.

Wanda looked like a mix between surprised, scared, and a bit angry. "Why me!? I already had to look in his mind. Now I'll be the first one he sees when he wakes up. I don't think I'm suited for this. What if something goes wrong?" She was frantic and worried.

"Hah, called it." Tony said as he took a sip from his water. He was tired–running on about fifteen minutes of sleep–and only had the capacity to weakly smirk at the others in victory. (Even though he had a delayed reaction).

"You're a good choice for multiple reasons, Wanda. You're straight-forward, a good trait to have when in this situation. You can sympathize with Peter and his experiences. Your powers can help you read his emotions and I know you'll act upon them. You have good control too, with both yourself and your powers. You can be very non-threatening when not fighting. If anything happens, you're the best person to stop him. He hasn't met you before and doesn't know your powers which you gives you an advantage. If he gets out of control, you have the power to literally calm him down and alter his emotions." Natasha explained after she shot a look at a half-asleep Tony. He was currently leaning back in his chair and staring blankly at the ceiling, unaware of most things going on.

Wanda couldn't really argue that. She _did_ have the powers for this kind of thing. Nobody else could do this. Doesn't mean she felt comfortable doing it though. She hasn't fought against the Spider and if his memories showed her anything, it was to not mess with him under any circumstance.

Pietro could sense his sister's hesitation. He _was_ mentally connected to her after all. She opened her mouth but he cut her off.

"I'm sorry but if you'll excuse us, I need to talk to my sister." He said, flashing a grin. Before Wanda or any of the others could react, they were both gone in a blue blur.

They returned a few minutes later and the rest of the team looked questioningly at the two, mainly Wanda.

A pause.

"Fine, I'll do it." Wanda huffed and sat back down, but a small smile played on her lips.

"Thank you, Wanda. Now that you've agreed, we need to discuss how you'll go about doing this. I think you should-" Bruce said.

_Bam._

Everyone turned to see Tony completely passed out and face-down on the table. Laughs and chuckles ensued.

A certain blond super soldier next to the billionaire sighed. "I think it's time for him to go to bed. If you'll excuse us, I'll be back in a minute. Just resume the meeting without me. I can always be briefed later." Steve said, carefully lifting up his husband bridal-style and carrying him out of the room.

"Anyway, Wanda, as I was saying, we need a plan for you to talk to Peter." Bruce returned his gaze to the witch. She simply nodded for him to continue. "You can tell him your name but I don't think you should tell him our names or where he is. There's a possibility of his mind being triggered. How about you..."

They talked for awhile and Steve came back after a few minutes. The Avengers came up with a sensible and safe plan for Wanda and Peter. Here's how it'll go:

1\. Wanda will enter the room and begin speaking to Peter (asking simple questions and small talk or whatever).

2\. After the simple stuff is out of the way, she will put on the headband thing and take Peter to the mindscape (a simple blank place in her mind). The headband will allow the Avengers in the other room to see what's going on and make sure nothing's wrong in the real world. She will have an earpiece connected to Bruce so he can give her questions or tips.

3\. Start asking Peter the difficult questions/talking more.

4\. Leave the mindscape. Wanda says goodbye and returns to the other Avengers.

Dr. Banner told Wanda she could try it the next day because he wanted to continue monitoring Spider and he needed to make sure he was getting nutrients.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright there's a short and crappy chapter for y'all.


	11. Ch 10-An okay day

**3rd POV**

It was the afternoon of the meeting. 2:41pm to be exact. Wanda had gone through the plan repeatedly in her head, memorizing questions and ways to talk to the boy. Bucky had been training with Steve the majority of the day, taking his mind off everything. Tony and Bruce slept for a surprising amount of time–around 3 full hours. Natasha and Clint were casually looking over Peter's files. The others were going about their day semi-normally.

The two assassins–plus Sam but he was just chilling–were lounging on the couch, files messily splayed around them. The TV was playing 'Say yes to the dress: Atlanta' in the background and only Sam seemed to be paying attention. Clint was looking at one of the only files in English that appeared to be about the mission they saw in Peter's memory. Meanwhile, Natasha was furiously flipping between multiple files, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. She cursed a lot in her native tongue.

Clint sighed heavily and looked up at his friend. He had enough of hearing her curse in Russian. "What's wrong Nat?"

"Something doesn't add up..." She responded, not taking her eyes off the many papers in her hands. Sam tore his eyes away from the show and looked at the two.

"And what would that be?" Clint asked, glancing at the files in her hands. They were mission reports all dated after June 2015, ranging anywhere from June to August.

"Look at this." She displayed most of the pages, pointing to the word–or name–Vulture.

"Sorry I don't speak gobbledygook." Clint said with a completely straight face, not cracking once.

She deadpanned "It's Russian? Anyway... Every time it says 'Vulture', it's after June 13th. But there's no file about 'Vulture' on that day. There's one on June 14th saying ' _Winter Spider has returned from his mission with grave injuries. He will remain in the Medical Center for a total of two days.'_ And this one is on June 12th. It says ' _Tomorrow PTR Arachnid 24601 will be sent to acquire the 'Vulture'_.' But nothing in between. Why?" Natasha said in a frustrating manner, her eyebrows sinking lower on her forehead.

By now, Sam had stood up and looked over her right shoulder to see, (not that he could read it anyway). Clint furrowed his brows and Natasha continued reading the short reports not in order.

" _'July 30th, 2015_

_We believe that PTR Arachnid 24601 has developed a... Fear after the Vulture mission. Further data awaits._

_June 17th, 2015_

_After PTR Arachnid 24601's failed mission with the Vulture, he has been acting less obedient. He does not listen unless punished and doesn't respond even when asked a question. Disappointing._

_July 6th, 2015_

_PTR Arachnid 24601 has just killed two agents for telling him to go on a mission. He is cowering on the ceiling of his cell and does not move or respond when spoken to. He will be severely punished for this._

_July 28th, 2015_

_PTR Arachnid 24601 has gone on his first mission since the Vulture one. He is acting normally now and does not hesitate to follow orders._

_August 3rd, 2015_

_We punished PTR Arachnid 24601 according to his fear and he showed more obedience than normal afterwards. This will come in handy.'_

"There's more but that's the premise of it." Natasha finished.

"Hm." Clint's right thumb caressed his left calloused palm, a habit he has when he's thinking. "That's odd. His fear... It could be Claustrophobia. Remember what we saw in his memories?" He shuddered at the thought and the other two nodded. "But you say there's no evidence of the mission?" The female ex-assassin nodded.

Sam had begun looking through the other English files awhile ago. "Nothing." He said, shaking his head.

The archer looked nervous for a split-second, but the emotion flickered from his eyes quickly. "Well let's check one more spot." He gulped and reached for the red notebook with the spider on the cover.

"Let me, I can translate." Natasha held out her hand and Clint quickly placed the book on her palm, eager to get rid of it.

She skimmed through the pages quickly for any sign of the 'Vulture'. When she was done the book with no result, she went through it again but more thoroughly.

Bucky walked through the door with a water bottle in hand and sweat glistening on his brow. "What're you doing?"

"Looking for something about Peter." Sam replied. Bucky looked momentarily confused but then remembered that Peter was Spider.

"What're you lookin' for?" He walked towards them curiously, but showed no sign of it.

Clint and Natasha took turns briefing him on what they were searching for.

"Couldn't help ya. Was after I left." Bucky winced minutely and nobody but Natasha noticed.

Sam nodded. "Thanks anyway. We'll let you know if we find anything." Bucky turned and left.

Almost fifteen minutes later, the three gave up, deeming that the file just wasn't here. Clint was lying face-down on a love seat, Natahsa was lying on her back on the couch, and Sam was sprawled out on the ground. All three of them looked tired and defeated.

"Argh! There's one piece in this stupid puzzle that's missing. One! Are you sure you didn't forget a file?" Clint asked for the millionth time.

"No!" Sam said, clearly irritated. "I took every file that read 'PTR Arachnid 24601' and 'Winter Spider'. There was nothing left, I'm telling you, man." He huffed.

Clint sighed. "Okay, okay. Fine. ...Did you leave it on the Quinjet?"

Bruce woke up around 3:30pm and decided to do a quick check-up on Spider.

When he got in the room, the boy was still asleep and still as ever. Perfect. The dosage of sedatives was working.

"FRIDAY, how is he?" He asked, looking at the monitors.

" _He is in stable condition, Dr. Banner. His is no longer severely malnourished and has gained three pounds since his arrival. His anus is no longer damaged. He no longer has cuts. His nose is almost completely fixed, as well as his pinkie finger. The rib will take an estimate of fifteen more days to heal, considering the shape it was in. The cut on his abdomen should take another day to heal completely. His bruises should also take five hours to two days to heal, depending on the severity. His ears are still slightly damaged from the explosions, however they will heal within the next twenty-four hours. That is all, Dr. Banner_." The AI reported politely.

"Thank you, FRI." He smiled and began refilling the sedatives.

" _No problem, Dr_."

After a minute, Bruce was done. He walked over to the door, shot one last look at the curly-haired teen, smiled, and left.

Tony was busy all afternoon. He had two meetings with other companies who wanted to buy his stuff. To no surprise, he was late to the first one. Only by twenty minutes though, thanks to Pepper. (He needed sleep and he doesn't care if he's late). The other meeting was at 4:00-5:00 and by that time, he was done with life. He hated meetings with a passion. They were so booriiiingggg. The only reason why he agreed was because he needed something to distract himself from Peter. And also, Pepper was being _very_ scary, but that's not the point. When he finally stepped into the common floor, he was exhausted. However, he was relieved when he smelled pasta wafting from the kitchen.

Wanda was stressed, to say the least. She was worried about Peter and the _talk_ she'd have with him. She didn't want to mess it up. And the girl certainly didn't want to die either. Pietro had spent the afternoon with her, helping her keep her mind off the whole thing. But when late afternoon came–around 4:40–Pietro was invited to train with the two ex-assassins, who were curious about testing his speed. Wanda had reluctantly let her brother go, though she immediately regretted it. Which leads up to now.

Wanda paced the hall, going in between her room and the elevator. Should she stay and worry in her room? Or should she go talk to someone–or even better, do something fun? Ugh. Decisions, decisions. The witch felt warm tendrils of magic curl around her fingers, which immediately calmed her down. She can't lose control, not ever.

When it was around her 58th lap down the hall, a body popped through the wall and stood beside her.

Being lost in thought, she was completely and utterly terrified.

"Vis, what the heck!? You scared me!" She almost shrieked, clutching her heart with a magic-filled Palm. Her voice was thickly accented due to fear and raw emotions.

"My apologies Wanda, normally you are not scared when I come to speak to you." He said somberly. Today, Vision was in his human form, wearing a nice red woolly sweater and some light blue jeans.

"Well normally, you know to go through doors. We talked about this, Vis. I'm sorry... I just have a lot on my mind." Wanda replied softly, her eyes tinted with the slightest bit of Crimson.

"If I may ask, what is on your mind?" He inquired politely.

"The meeting with Peter tomorrow." Vision nodded for her to continue. "What if–What if something happens? What if he gets angry and attacks? What if I lose control and hurt him? What if I kill him? What if _I_ die? Sergeant Barnes would be so mad if anything bad happened! What if I can't handle it? What if-" she was cut off mid-question.

"I hate to interrupt for I know it is impolite, but I believe all this worrying is pointless. Forgive me, I am aware that worrying and stressing is human nature, but I do not see the need for so much of it. I may not understand what to do in this scenario, but I think you will be fine. You have a gift, Wanda. Use your abilities to your advantage. Peter–as you call him–does not know who you are, therefore you are the one who has an upper hand since you know who he is. Besides, you know his abilities. Use this information wisely Wanda, and do not worry so much." Vision said wisely, resting his hand on Wanda's shoulder as a comforting gesture he learned from her.

Wanda let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding. "Thank you, Vis." She said tiredly.

"It is no problem. Now, it is nearly 5 o'clock and there will be hungry people expecting food in an hour or two. I have done some research and learned that 'take-out', as humans say, is not very healthy. So instead, I plan to cook dinner with the help of a recipe. Would you like to help me?" The Android asked. Wanda only just noticed the cookbook in his hand.

The brunette rolled her eyes and let out a breathy laugh. "I think it'll be more like you helping me but yes, I would love that."

Vision looked confused and pondered for a moment before just giving up and moving on. He still wondered what she meant though...

"Perhaps we should invite Steve and Bucky? I know they both enjoy cooking." Vision asked as he got in the elevator.

"Sure. I think they'll appreciate that. FRIDAY, invite Steve and Sargeant Barnes to come cook dinner with us. Only if he wants to though."

All the Avengers gathered around the table. Wanda and Vision, with the help of Steve and Bucky, had made lasagna and Caesar salad with baguette on the side. It was amazing. Clint let them borrow his homemade lasagna recipe for it.

"I swear this is better that my mom made it." Clint said blissfully as he took another bite of the lasagna.

"It's just lasagna Clint." Wanda said, blushing at the compiment because she made most of it.

"He's right, Wanda. Well– I'm not sure about the 'mom' part, but it's a very good lasagna. Remind me to make you cook some more often." Natasha said, looking up from her food and smiling at the teen.

Sadly, Vision can't eat so he just sat at one of the seats. He may not be able to eat but he still loved to observe what humans talk about. It was quite fun.

"Is nobody going to comment on the good Caesar salad?" Sam asked when he was done swallowing the last of his lettuce.

"I'm with Birdbrain over here, this salad is killer." Tony butt in.

They joked and laughed the rest of the meal, momentarily forgetting about Spider and all the problems they had. Except Bucky, he was silent the whole meal yet he thankfully didn't seem sad. All in all, it was a good night.

Tony was in the middle of putting his plate in the dish washer when he heard a _ping_ from his phone.

_**SaltnPeppa** _

**Turn on the news.**

Turn on the news? Okay.

"Pepper said to turn on the news." Tony said as he searched for the remote. The others ditched the clean-up and instead gathered around the the TV as it turned on.

" _Breaking news; Norman Osborn, the late founder and head scientist of Oscorp has been revealed to have a son. Harry Osborn, a sixteen year old boy and heir of the Osborn family just revealed himself earlier today. He says that along with the help of his dad's second-in-command, Mr. Rathta, he wishes to re-open Oscorp and make it better than ever. He claims:_

" _'My dad's death was something I expected for years. I was always on edge, worried for when it'd happen. When he did die, I was devastated, as he was my only parent. We couldn't save him and I had to learn to face the facts. I was even more sad, however, when I learned that his company, Oscorp, was going to close due to his death. Really? Close? I thought 'if anything, this company should become better than ever. Both to honour his death, and to build better tech, hoping a disease like his could be cured in the near future. I have to keep his legacy'. Closing Oscorp is not a solution. So that's why I have decided to re-open it in hopes it will change the world one step at a time. Besides, with Oscorp gone, who's going to rival Stark Industries?'_ " The boy on the screen–Harry Osborn–let a shit-eating grin play at his lips before quickly smiling normally again.

" _The official date of it's re-opening has not yet been released. However, it is expected to be sometime in the summer. Today is March 18th, I'm Amy Prieer, and that is all for the news at this hour._ "

A moment of calm before the storm.

"What the fuck!? They're opening Oscorp again? Wha- This kid is opening Oscorp? 'To honour his father'. They are a shady-ass science company and I would never trust them with anything." Tony yelled and cursed at the TV, which was no longer displaying the news. He rambled for awhile and Steve eventually had to use force to calm him down.

The other Avengers all agreed that they didn't like Oscorp. As much as they hate to admit it, they had to agree with Tony, Oscorp is kind of sketchy. Maybe they don't dislike it as much as him, but they're not a fan.

And they thought they were having a pretty good day.


	12. Ch 11-Spider meets Witch

**WARNING: Slight spoiler for the Tron Legacy movie (basically nothing though)**

**3rd POV**

It was Tuesday morning. Also known as the third day PTR Arachnid 24601 spent in the Tower (well, more like 59 hours but yeah). Also, also known as the day they'd wake the Spider up to talk to Wanda.

After last night's news about Harry Osborn and the re-opening of Oscorp, everyone's moods had gone from 'Finally decently relaxed and happy' to 'Oh no the shady-ass business is back, not good news, we need to be on high alert and not have fun'.

It was early morning and Bucky, Steve, and Sam had just gone on their run. Now, Steve was whipping up a large breakfast of pancakes and fruit while Bucky sat unmoving at the breakfast bar. He was staring at the bar without blinking or breaking his gaze. His metal hand latched onto his thigh while the other tapped quickly on the table, something he often did when he was nervous. Sam was reading the newspaper article about Oscorp but was becoming very annoyed with the incessant tapping.

"Could you stop tapping _please_?" Sam finally snapped. Bucky stopped but never took his gaze away from the white marble bar.

"Sam, calm down. He's just nervous." Steve said after flipping the eleventh pancake. Bucky didn't have the energy to glare at his friend for defending him like a puppy.

The bird took a deep breath. "Yeah yeah I know. Sorry man." He said to the nervous assassin.

Bucky grumbled appreciatively in response.

Soon, people trickled into the kitchen. Steve finished the pancakes and served them all.

"Is that my sweater?" Steve confusedly asked Natasha, noticing the much-too-large royal blue sweater that flopped past her thighs.

She just eyed the soldier suspiciously and took a bite of her whip cream-ified pancake. Steve turned back to his food, muttering something nobody heard.

Wanda walked into the kitchen, a look of pure anxiety on her features. She took a seat next to Natasha and shakily served herself a few pancakes with strawberries. Amoungst the chatter, she stayed silent, slowly nibbling her food. A nudge from her side caused her to look up.

"Nervous?" Natasha spoke softly, her maternal side showing.

Wanda just nodded and looked back to her food, prodding it with her fork.

"Hey, look at me. It's okay. You'll be fine. We chose you for a reason, Wanda. He won't hurt you and I know you won't hurt him. You've got this." The ex-assassin whispered, rubbing her back soothingly and offering a half-smile in reassurance.

"Thanks Nat." She replied, feeling a bit better. Natasha dipped her head and finished her pancakes.

It was around 12:00 in the afternoon and everybody had been busying themselves to get their mind off things. By this point, Clint called them all to watch a movie and they all agreed–even Bucky, who was more on edge than everyone else, and Tony, who was cooped up in his lab. Anything to feel relaxed. After much arguing, _Tron Legacy_ won over _Interstellar_. Bruce walked in at the part where Quorra and Sam were escaping the motorcycle arena. Everyone's head turned to him.

"So we've decided to let the current sedatives naturally wear out. That means Peter should wake up in around 30 minutes, give or take. FRIDAY will alert us when he does." The scientist said awkwardly before joining his friends in front of the TV.

"Thank you." Wanda took a deep breath, determination laced on her features. Bruce nodded in a 'you're welcome' way.

Some time later, when Sam (in the movie) was leaving his father's house, FRIDAY cut in.

" _Excuse the interruption but I should inform you that the Winter Spider has just woken up_."

"That's my cue." Wanda said calmly before getting up and heading towards the Med Bay, followed by Bruce. Pietro patted his sister on the back encouragingly and flashed her a smile as she disappeared into the elevator.

When the two were gone, Tony quickly changed the TV to display a split-screen. One half was the footage of Peter sitting awake and unmoving in his bed. The other was just static–soon to be Wanda's mind thanks to the head band.

Peter's POV (the med room)

Meanwhile, Spider's eyes slowly opened, blurring before the world came into focus. He blinked a few times, confused as to where he was, but he didn't show it. It was bright. He didn't like that.

The first thing he noticed was the bed he was in. It was a cot. But it was cleaner than the ones in the base. Peters saw a slightly bloodied bandage wrapped around his forearm and felt one around his torso. There was an IV and some other needles in his left arm. His pinkie was in a cast and his left wrist was bandaged. The boy slowly brought a hand to his head, a bandage was there too. One was on his nose. Hm. He was certainly confused. _Where am I? Why am I in a cot? Why am I injured? What day is it? What time is it? Is there anyone else here? This doesn't look like the base. I don't remember what happened_. Peter thought as he examined his less-occupied right arm. The bruises were gone but the scars remained.

Next thing he noticed was the room. It was very clean. Too clean to be a HYDRA base... The walls were a minty colour and the floor was composed of those semi-soft white tiles. There was a window to his right. It was long (horizontally), thin, and quite high off the ground–more than a meter. All he saw out of it was blue sky and white clouds. The sun streamed through and cast a warm glow over the room. Around the bed he was in were a few machine and scans. Under the window was a table and a black screen. A few chairs scattered the walls of the room and a light brown door sat in the center across from him. To his left, on the ceiling, there was the tiniest black nub that only an enhanced person like him could see. A camera. _It's either surveillance or someone's filming me. Hopefully they're not filming me but I'm not surprised if they are. Wait, who_ are _they?_ He studied the camera, no point on worrying about it right now. Instead, the boy turned his gaze back to the room. Peter thought the room was unnecessarily big. The Medical rooms at the base were smaller than this.

 _Okay Spider, what are the best ways to escape? There's the window. Climbing the wall will be easy and I can definitely break the glass. I just need to get these stupid needles out. Why did it have to be needles? I hate them. Get a grip, Spider. Back to the escape plan... There's always the door. There could be people outside with guns. I can always disarm and kill them quickly. Wait but there might be a lot of them. Let's see... A vent above me. I could escape through there. Hold on... Where's my suit?_ Peter internally panicked a little, though he didn't show it. However, once he was done with all of the escape plans, he focused his attention back on the real world.

The final thing he noticed was the sound coming from inside the room. And no, not the beeps and clicks of the machines or the people in the building (the room was sound-proof so he couldn't hear anything else). The sound he heard seemed to echo around the room, surrounding him. It came from no single place. For some reason, he felt like he recognized it. Well– not the sound, but the type of sound. Peter wasn't sure how to describe it. He heard words but they almost seemed... Connected? It grew louder and softer, more energetic and then calmer, happier and sadder. It almost sounded stringy and plucky yet smooth underneath. The way it connected together rang in a welcoming way in his ears. Peter could see colours and feel emotions bursting through his mind. And there was something with the words that made it sound enjoyable and happy.

_'So pack yourself a pretty dress,_

_Your favourite pair of shoes_

_I will grab the CD's,_

_Play some rhythm and some blues_

_We will live like rock stars_

_Honey, what have we to lose?_

_So we'll run away to Monaco and leave behind no clues.'_

The volume of whatever the noise was, was not very high at all, making Peter very thankful it didn't hurt. But he still didn't know what it was. _Wait. What if it meant something bad? What if someone was going to attack? This could be dangerous, couldn't it? I have to stay on high alert_. The young teen internally panicked again, but remained calm on the outside. Whatever this noise was, he would be ready to face it.

Just then, he was snapped from his thoughts as he heard the door handle twist. He immediately sat up straight and stiff. Peter watched a girl quietly walk in. She wore black tights, a fluffy dark grey and red sweater, and fuzzy yellow socks that muffled her footsteps. She wasn't very tall, only a few inches shorter than Peter. She looked the same age as him as well, maybe a few years older. Her sort-of wavy dark pecan hair went past her shoulders and the young assassin swore he saw tints of red in it. Her skin wasn't very pale nor tan; a perfect in-between without any blemishes. As for her eyes, they were a quite captivating shade of pale cornflower blue rimmed with a deep steel-grey that matched her sweater.

The girl smiled at him kindly.

He didn't smile back.

She pulled up a chair next to him and Spider thought her eyes flashed red for a second. He must be imagining it. A million questions poured into his mind but he wasn't allowed to ask questions. So Peter opted for staying silent. He observed the young girl skeptically, taking in her every movement and detail.

"Hello, my name is Wanda Maximoff. Please call me Wanda." The girl– _Wanda_ , was very polite and manneristic.

"My name is PTR Arachnid 24601, ma'am. However you can call me what you see fit." Spider introduced himself formally, questions still on his mind.

"I'll call you 'Spider' then, it's quick and easy. As long as it's okay with you, of course. And please, no 'ma'am' stuff. Wanda is fine." Bucky had informed her–if he remembered correctly–Spider didn't like the names HYDRA gave him. Instead, he preferred 'Spider'.

Peter was secretly happy about her calling him Spider. It was the only name he liked. As for just calling her Wanda, he didn't object. If she asked him to do something, he would. His job was to comply, after all. No matter the situation or consequences. So, he nodded and kept quiet, allowing her to continue the conversation.

She– _Wanda_ smiled warmly at him. However, the boy couldn't help but see her hands fidgeting and smell the very faint scent of sweat. Nervous sweat. He heard her heart beat quicker than average. Wanda was nervous. Most likely for talking to him. A small but familiar scent of warm, rainy, sweaty, watery, stinging fear lingered in the air around her.

"You can ask questions, you know. I won't stop you from being curious. In fact, please do ask questions." The girl didn't stop smiling nicely. Wanda seemed to read his mind. As much as he didn't want to ask anything in fear of being punished, he was being told to, so he might as well.

"Are you nervous?" Was the first thing that came to mind.

The female brunette sighed softly, as if expecting that. "Honestly? Yes. I am nervous to speak to you." Silence. "You can ask more questions by the way. I might not be able to answer them all though."

"Where am I?"

"That's confidential at the moment. Though I can say that you are not in HYDRA's hands anymore and you are safe in a Medical center." Wanda replied.

Peter was skeptical but didn't show it. But surprisingly not angry. Why wasn't he angry? He would normally be angry. Why was he calm? _There!_ There's that red tint in her eyes again. It's faint, but his superior vision could pick it up. Her heart rate also quickened slightly. Something was up, but Spider was too relaxed to worry. Odd.

"What day and time is it?" He asked, more hesitantly as if he were expecting something awful–which he was.

"It is Tuesday March 22cnd, 2016." She checked her black watch. "It's 12:34 in the afternoon."

The boy nodded but never opened his mouth for another question. Wanda noticed his hesitance.

"If it makes you feel better, I was a HYDRA experiment too, along with my brother. But we were rescued by some very nice people who are now our friends. I know how you feel so don't be afraid to say anything about your experiences. I've gone through some of the same things." The witch confessed. She reached over to hold Peter's hand in hers as a comforting gesture.

Peter jerked his hand back before she touched him, jostling the bandages. His eyes grew wide, the first real emotions creeping their way on his face. "Sorry." His face... Flushed? He was embarrassed.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

Then he remembered. Peter blinked. That certainly changed his view on her. _Really? She was an experiment like him? She doesn't act like it. But she also doesn't seem to be lying because she doesn't have a tell. Could be because she's an experiment... Wait-_ The boy was surprised to say the least. He didn't know how to respond so he just thanked her. A moment of awkward silence passed.

"How old are you, Spider?"

"Fifteen."

"When is your birthday?"

"August 10th, 2001."

Really, Wanda knew all of this already, however she had to make sure Peter himself knew this stuff.

As for Peter, he thought the girl was hard to read. She kept a steady smile and her expressions didn't change often. Wanda's hands still moved around but never showed anything other than nervousness and a twinge of fear. Though the scent was so faint and mostly gone. Her posture was relaxed and formal.

"What languages do you know?" Random question. Okay.

"I'm fluent in English, Russian, and German. I can hold conversations in French, sometimes Italian, and Dutch. I know simple phrases and commands in Japanese however my pronunciation is is not satisfactory. I'm better at understanding and listening to the verbal part of Japanese. I'm fluent in Morse Code and some American Sign Language." Spider answered, studying her hands to see if there was any sign of her emotions changing. None. Wanda listened closely to his words and her eyes flickered Crimson again for a moment.

"Do I know you?" He blurted and immediately regretted it.

The witch saw the regret in his eyes and felt bad. "No, Spider, you don't know me. You may know my friends, but not me."

He was curious about the 'friends' part but decided on asking a different question. He could pry the 'friends' question out of her later. "What's that thing around the room?"

"What thing?" She looked genuinely perplexed.

"The connected-words thing. It changes a lot. Sometimes the whole thing changes to something different entirely. Don't you hear it? It's coming from everywhere and nowhere. Right now it's saying 'But I hold on to her secrets in white houses'. It changed since the other one."

After a moment of thought, Wanda's whole face changed. It was a mix of realization and pity. "FRIDAY, turn the music off." The music turned off.

"It's gone." Peter breathed incredulously.

"It's called music."

"Music?"

"Yeah, you'll learn about it more later."

Spider nodded. He likes the 'music'. It didn't seem dangerous. 'Later'? 'Later' when? 'Later' how? 'Later' why? Also, who–or what–was FRIDAY?

The witch got up in one swift, graceful movement and went to one of the machines, grabbing a headband connected to a box with some wires. The blue-eyed teen adorned it and sat back down. Winter Spider was confused but didn't comment. He noted her new confidence.

"Hold on to something, this might feel weird."

The boy didn't have time to question anything before he grabbed onto his bed and a red flash engulfed them, forcing his eyes closed due to the sensitivity. When he opened them, he didn't recognize anything. Everything around him was an infinite soft shade of black and the spot where he stood seemed to glow. Wait, stood? He wasn't standing previously. No matter, he stood straight and stiff in his usual stance.

"Relax. You're perfectly fine and safe. The you in the real world is still there. This place is essentially just a mindscape, filled with our conscious." He looked up to see Wanda standing in front of him, looking the same as before but glowing just like him. She stood sturdily and confidently about two and a half meters away. Her eyes were bright Crimson and faint wisps of red circled her body. "You have questions don't you?"

"Those red things are your powers aren't they?"

"Yes they are. But in this mindscape, I cannot hurt you, and you can't hurt me." She wasn't really telling the truth. They could hurt each other easily, but Wanda had more control since she made the mindscape.

Peter, seeing through the lie like glass, only stared on unemotionally and stayed silent.

"Tell me Spider, do you remember your fights and training sessions?"

The young assassin was taken aback by the sudden question but remained unmoving. "No." He answered truthfully. "Not most of them at least. After I turned thirteen, my fights just seem to be a blank and foggy spot in my mind. Before that, I remember a few from ages eleven to thirteen. As for before age eleven, I remember most of my fights even though a lot of them are just a blur of old and unused memories."

Wanda nodded. "Do you know why?" She asked, quieter than the other questions.

Spider paused. Should he answer this? It was confidential information, right? But Wanda said he was away from HYDRA and in a safe spot. He should be okay, right? _Why do I feel obliged to tell her? Why do I feel like I can trust her? Did her eyes just turn darker?_

"I suspect it's thanks to a chip they put in my neck after I turned thirteen. Some things I do or say make me feel unlike myself." Peter replied almost sadly.

"Could you explain please?"

More hesitation. _Not a good thing to do Spider_. He mentally scolded himself and took a deep breath. "When I do certain things, my mind... Changes." _I sound so stupid_. "I'm still there but I feel suppressed, as if who I really am is under a layer of ice. My.. Other side... The side I call my 'inhumane side'... Takes over and controls my actions. When I'm finally able to resurface, I have a hard time remembering what happened. Fighting triggers the change in my mind. Sometimes, when small bits of memories come back to me, my other self will resurface and push them away again. Random things like clacking footsteps or brainwashes trigger it too. It's always painful and gives me a massive headache that pounds into my skull like a hammer until it breaks whatever thoughts I have and replaces me with something else." Spider concluded.

Wanda's expression didnt change much, but you could see a strong twinkle of pity in her eyes. Speaking of her eyes, during his whole explanation, they turned darker. When he was done, they resumed to the previous shade of light red. Peter wondered why that was.

"If you can remember, what does your other side, your 'inhumane side', do or act like?" She queried.

More hesitation. Why was he hesitating? He would never tell her these things? But the younger brunette feels like he would... "From what I remember, it listens and obeys to the Men without any form of hesitation or reluctance. It has instincts to do certain things and to hate certain people. My inhumane side just kills and listens like a puppet. Sometimes it makes me sick. Especially when I resurface to kill in training. Unlike me, _it_ doesn't really have thoughts, just the sheer desire to do whatever the Men say. When it's done executing orders, it feels... Happy, and usually ends up slowly giving me back my body. But when I'm back, I don't know anything anymore. Just a blank slate in my mind. Everything I once knew is trapped under ice, waiting to be thawed again." _Why the hell did I say all that?_

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I have a bit of an off-topic question but we'll return to this conversation after." Peter dipped his head in confirmation for her to continue. "This may anger you or annoy you and I'm deeply sorry but it had to be done. What do you think about me seeing your memories and showing my friends?"

What did he- _what? She looked through my mind? Argh, why am I so CALM about this? Wait... My memories. I don't have memories, do I? Well, they're there, I just don't have access to them. Maybe they're not horrible? Or maybe they are. What do I even say to this?_

"I honesty don't know what to think about you looking through my memories and showing your friends. Actually, I applaud you. I don't know what my memories are like, or what they're even of. I imagine they're of HYDRA and such, but since I no longer have access to them, I'm not sure. Considering that you were actually able to access them and see what I can't, I'm not mad. If I don't even know what's in my own head, then I'm not sure if I can mad at someone who does. There could be something positive in there for all I know." Winter Spider replied with an undertone of salt in his voice. He looked bitter and sort of wistful. His eyes darted to the side briefly, momentarily focusing on the void that surrounded the two.

"You have good answers to these questions." Her accented voice praised him and sighed weakly before continuing. "If you were wondering, my friends I didn't see everything. Just a few days going through your daily routine, a few missions, and some other things. Let's get back on topic now." Wanda said in a rush. Peter just blinked, letting her continue yet stayed wary. "When your inhumane side takes over, are there any memories that you can't get rid of, even when changed? Does anything stay with you? Other than what HYDRA wants you to think, of course."

Alright well, she read his mind once again. What the hell? Her powers have something to do with reading minds...

"Yes. There's a few blurry ones that revolve around the same few people."

"Care to tell me which ones? You don't have to, but I'm curious."

To Peter's surprise, he didn't have the weird obligation to tell her this. However, he still felt like he should out of his own free will. "There's a guy I once knew. I don't remember his name or his face or any damn thing about him." He said angrily, some long-buried emotions started to bloom. "But he was– _is_ important to me. He shared a cell with me for almost a year. He was my first... My first _friend_. Yet I can't seem to remember a damn thing about him." Peter repeated. "The five years he's been gone have really affected my mind. I don't know his name. I don't think I'd be able to recognize him if he were standing in front of me. I don't even know if he's dead or not." He breathed the word 'friend' out like it was a sin to say. Peter felt small orbs of water prick the corners of his eyes but he ignored them. The wall-crawler expected an onslaught of pain to hit his head because he was awakening some memories, but to his surprise, it never came. Instead, wisps of red magic wrapped around him and his head. He never noticed. Spider continued, "He told me stories. Ones about a guy. All I know is the guys name stared with an 'S' and he was his best friend. He died too. My cellmate was sad. There are plenty of stories about his friend. I don't remember them but the words 'apple orchid' and 'snowy train' keep repeating. My friend told me about the real world too. There are two very famous scientists he told me about one time. Of course, I forget that as well. I don't really know much anymore." Spider spat all this out like depressing venom.

When Peter was done, quiet, hot tears streamed down his face. Oh how he wished he wasn't crying. He'd get punished real badly for this. And why wasn't his head pounding by now? Was there something wrong with him?

"It's okay to cry. I don't mind. And you won't get in trouble." The witch's soft voice spoke up, pity and sadness etched on her features. Her eyes shimmered almost mischeviously though. She knew something. Something Spider didn't. And she wasn't going to tell him. Not yet at least.

Wanda let him cry in peace for awhile. He was able to put himself together rather quickly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen." Peter let out a rattled breath.

"That's okay. Now, back to the questions?"

A nod. The curly-haired teen noted that the tendrils of magic that were previously wrapped around him, had lessened significantly.

"Spider, before the chip was implanted, was there anything else that made you more obedient? Did HYDRA inject you with another substance?"

"There were lots of needles and time frames that I can never remember, but that's all."

"What did the needles do to you?"

"I don't know. They'd just inject one in my neck and suddenly I'm being surpressed. Just like after I turned thirteen. It happened every day, usually multiple times."

Wanda squinted her eyes and slowly nodded her head knowingly.

Something flashed in Peter's mind. A man–his cellmate and friend–was telling him a story about his friend. There was a smile on his face. A memory.

Pain.

Spider clutched his head and bit back a cry of agony as the crescendo of pain pounded into his cerebral. To no avail, he let out a long string of screams. He almost doubled-over, not being able to find leverage or a purchase, and staggered around a bit. Peter's mind turned blank and his fingers clawed pointlessly at his head in effort to take away the pain.

All of a sudden, he felt someone latch onto him, gripping him firmly and keeping him in place. They squeezed his body tightly, making sure he didn't collapse. To Spider's surprise, the pain began to subside. It was a slow decrescendo of torture now. His mind wasn't blank anymore. It didn't feel like it normally would after one of his 'episodes'. Instead, he felt calm and relaxed. Peter let his hands fall back to his side and he stood up straight once again. When he got his bearings, he realized it was some _thing_ holding him in place– not someone. The scarlet ribbons of magic constricted around his entire body. They seemed to even flow _through_ him. As he reverted back to normal, the wisps resided, fading away slightly until only ghostly tendrils remained. When Winter Spider looked up, he saw Wanda standing, her hands twisted and fingers curled like she was manipulating something. Her eyes were dark Crimson and very focused.

"Y-you have the power to control emotions, don't you? And read minds?" Peter spluttered out, finally seeming to figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to wash your hands, drink lots of water, and stay safe out there!
> 
> -Swindle


	13. Ch 12-Spider meets Witch Pt. 2

**WARNINGS: A bit of swearing, a breakdown (crying), and a not-very detailed fight**

**3rd POV**

Wanda was almost surprised he figured it out so quickly. Then again, Spider is an assassin so it's not that unlikely. "Yes, I do. Amoung other things. I can manipulate objects and make illusions as well. Congratulations on figuring it out." She complimented with a wide smile.

"Did HYDRA give you those powers?" Peter asked, genuinely curious, but he flinched backwards when he realized how rude and invasive the question was.

Wanda simply nodded, smiling reassuringly. "When we were younger, my brother and I were taken by HYDRA and given powers. We were made into weapons, like you."

"I see, I'm sorry." Spider didn't know why he said he was sorry but he felt like he should. Wanda and her brother must've suffered as much as him. He felt awful for them.

"It's okay. I could show you the things I can do later, if you'd like. Now... I still have a few more questions if you're okay with that?"

"Yes, Wanda."

"Do you think you want to go back to HYDRA?"

That got Peter thinking. Did he want to? I mean– he belongs to them. He lives there. He's their weapon. They give him food, shelter, training, and a purpose in life. But didn't Wanda say he was safe now? She had nice friends, right? Could he experience the outside world now? If he chose to stay, would HYDRA come after him? Yeah, they would, there's no doubt about that. Yet there are so many things he could learn about. But... Why was this descision so hard? Why was he even considering staying? He would never do that, would he? It should be simple. The obvious choice would be to go back to HYDRA.

"It's not about want. It's about need."

"Do you _need_ to go back?" She was impressed by his response.

"Yes, I believe do. However, I want to stay."

The witch dipped her head in acknowledgement and continued. "Spider, I'm going to do something very risky that you might not like but it's very important and will help both you and a friend later. May I?"

Winter Spider was unsure. _Risky? Might not like? Comply, Spider, comply_.

"You may."

The blue-eyed brunette began manipulating a lot of red magic a few feet the right of Peter. It gathered and swirled into a tall cylinder, reaching below six feet. Wanda's eyes were so dark that they almost resembled coal. Her face was a mask of pure concentration and effort as the wisps swirled into the figure. Slowly and then all at once, the red ribbons of magic shot off the figure, absorbing back into Wanda's hands, and revealed what was there.

Bucky.

Bucky was standing there.

Of course he wasn't real, it was an illusion, but it looked very real. He wore the same clothes as Peter's memories of him–some dark grey sweatpants and a red t-shirt. The Soldier's old metal arm glimmered in all its glory. A familier faint scar was visible on his right arm, making the illusion so much more convincing. His hair was pulled back in a loose and very messy ponytail, stray hairs dangling around his face. Bucky's eyes were a dark wall of iron, looking nearly murderous and his face wore a mask of indifference. He stood semi-straight with his hands shoved in the pockets of the sweats. His posture was dominating and intimidating, yet nonchalant perfectly calm. Really, he looked exactly like the Bucky in Spider's memories and like a ghost of the present-day Bucky.

A flicker of recognition overcame Peter's mind. He knew this man. It was his cellmate. His _friend_. A split-second worth of memories flooded in, reminding Spider of his connection towards the man. His chest swelled with warmth and happiness when he barely remembered who he was. Snippets of conversations pooled into his mind and he _nearly_ smiled. Peter took a shaky step in Bucky's direction. Before he got another step in, however, Spider went rigid and his eyes glazed over with a blank look. Agony shot up his spine and pounded into his head as the boy fell to the ground, screaming and convulsing painfully. The young brunette writhed for a full four seconds, clutching his head and sweating profusely. Then he suddenly let go. Everything went silent–aside from Peter's laboured breathing. Ever so slowly, the assassin raised his head up from his shaky hands. His curly bed-head-esque hair clung to his forehead and partially blocked the view of his face. Wanda noticed that Winter Spider's eyes were almost black with bloodlust–it sent shivers down her spine. His body snapped up and suddenly Peter was attacking the defenceless Soldier.

Wanda watched, nearly terrified, as the Spider tackled the older man and immobilized him. When the Winter Soldier couldn't move, Peter sunk his teeth into illusion Bucky's forearm, drawing thick streams of blood. The whole time his teeth were sunk in, the teen stared directly at the frozen Witch. His gaze never wavered. It was almost as if he were challenging her, silently saying 'What are you going to do? Isn't this what you wanted?'. When he let go, the boy continued to face Wanda as he stepped over Bucky's writhing body. The Soldier shivered on the ground, turning pale and foaming at the mouth before completely lying limp. His eyes were trained emotionlessly on the void above. The only reason why illusion Bucky never fought back is because Wanda didn't command him to. She wanted to see what Peter would do. And frankly, it was what she expected. However, she was still scared after watching.

During the whole ordeal, Wanda noticed a few things about Spider. First thing was that after the fake Bucky was cast, Peter's expression changed from emotionless to almost a bittersweet, heartbroken-happiness. Even without her powers, she could visibly see him remember memories of him and the Soldier. He brightened significantly and it made Wanda happy for him. Second thing she noticed was how–almost immediately–after the joy, there was only pain. Peter was subjected to a wave unimaginable pain just like before. But this time, she didn't stop it because she needed results. Next thing Wanda noticed was how effortlessly and easily the Winter Spider killed illusion Bucky. (Then again, Wanda could've made Bucky fight back like normal but she chose not to). He never hesitated or showed any signs of emotions other than the desire to kill. The very last thing she noticed was how Spider never broke his gaze from Wanda when he was killing Bucky. It was just like his memories. No matter how emotionlessly and unfazed he could perform murder, Peter never looked at the person as they were dying.

Suddenly, Spider seemed to snap back to reality. His eyes widened and returned to their rich honey-brown colour and his posture went slack yet stiff. The boy momentarily shot a look at Wanda that almost resembled a weak plea of pity, before snapping his body around to face the dead illusion Bucky. When his golden-caramel eyes locked onto the limp, dead figure of Bucky, he completely changed. His eyes began to water at an unimaginable speed and the brown orbs resembled pools of devastation. Peter rushed over to fake Bucky's dead body and began to kneel next to him.

"No, no, no, no. Wake up! Please wake up! C'mon wake up. You have to... You promised, remember? You promised me..." Winter Spider's choked sobs echoed around the mindscape loudly. He brought his hand up to Bucky's cheek and caressed it softly. "Please no... You have to stay with me..." Spider began shaking the older man but to no avail, he was dead.

Peter clutched Bucky's shirt until his knuckles were white and he lowered his head to the older's chest, staining the red shirt with his tears. He mumbled incoherently to the limp body before slowly raising his gaze to Wanda.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't– I'm not– I don't know what happened! Hurt me as much as you want! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." Peter stared wide-eyed at the standing Wanda.

Wanda watched helplessly as the younger teen backed into an invisible wall. He curled up, bringing his knees to his head, and hid his face. Spider kept crying and mumbling apologies and things about Bucky. The boy slowly rocked back and forth, keeping himself as curled up and hidden as possible.

He looked small.

So, _so_ small.

The witch couldn't help but think of the shy, quiet, small eleven year-old in the memories rather than the strong, practically emotionless, perfectly obedient fifteen year-old that was rescued. She noticed how he now looked even more lanky, thin, hollow, and broken as he rocked back and forth. Wanda wanted to do something– _anything_ that would make Peter feel better. But she couldn't. Not yet, at least.

She risked taking a peek into his mind. When she did, the older brunette nearly regretted it.

It was a war zone in there. Completely and utterly chaotic. Both sides were ripping the other to pieces. However, it seemed as though the HYDRA one was winning. Memories kept appearing and then being shoved back under a thick wall of ice. Thoughts and questions swirled in an endless tornado of misery and curiosity. Wanda saw as Peter had _no fucking clue_ why he was feeling the way he was. The boy doesn't even know _why_ he attacked Bucky or why he feels so horrible. He doesn't even know what the older man's name is. He doesn't know why he's crying over killing someone, as he never does. He doesn't know why he's saying 'You promised' over and over, yet he can't help but let those words spill out as if they're the right ones to say. A mantra of 'You're so pathetic' kept repeating again and again.

Peter was lost.

So very lost.

And it hurt Wanda.

Instead of just standing there, the witch crouched down and began to slowly approach Spider.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay. It's going to be okay." Was all she could really offer to the shaking figure.

"B-but I killed him!" Peter blubbered, raising his head. Glossy honey orbs met pitying blue-grey ones.

"No, Spider, you didn't kill him." Wanda refrained from nearing the boy too much because she didn't want him to become uncomfortable like earlier. "Look at him, Spider."

The Winter Spider obeyed and looked at illusion Bucky's dead body from a few feet away. All of a sudden, the body faded into red wisps, eventually returning to Wanda and leaving nothing behind. Peter watched in shock as the Soldier disappeared. He didn't know how to feel anymore. Was he mad? Certainly. Was he happy? Also a yes. Instead of saying anything, he just buried his head in his hands and let the tears flow, accompanied by weak sniffles.

Wanda pursed her lips. Well, there's one option for her to choose now. She got closer to Peter and when he didn't move, she waved her magic-adorned hand over his head. The younger teen grew limp, flopping unconscious onto the void floor.

A streak of red light transported them back to the real world where Peter was now asleep on his bed and Wanda was sitting in her chair.

"FRIDAY, save all of the mindscape stuff."

" _Confirm, it has been saved_."

"Thank you." Wanda took off the headband and put it back.

To give the younger teen some time to calm down and sleep peacefully, Wanda busied herself by jotting everything down on a notepad just in case. She also quickly checked over Spider's bandages. You see, she's been working with Bruce in the Medical Bay a lot lately. The witch took an interest in learning some basic–but important–medical procedures in case anything were to happen on a mission. It was partially if either Bruce wasn't there or if he needed some extra help. After the girl removed some of the bandages, changed the others, and deemed him fine, she woke him up. A snap of her fingers and a few red sparks caused Peter to blink his eyes open. He looked around in confusion for a moment before remembering where he was.

"Good afternoon again, Spider." Wanda grinned, sparing the little assassin a glance as she began rolling spare bandages up. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

And there... _There_ was the Avalanche of regret that cascaded down in Peter's eyes. He instinctively curled up again but stayed strong and didn't cry.

"Yes, I do. Is he okay?" The boy asked, his beautiful honey eyes staring Wanda down.

The older teen finished rolling up the bandage in her hand and began rolling a second. "He wasn't real, remember?" She reminded him softly.

"Oh right. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, it's okay. How do you feel?"

Winter Spider never answered this question. His eyes began pricking with tears however he resisted giving into the emotions–for now. Peter didn't need to answer the question for Wanda to understand a little bit about how he felt.

"Does he exist?" A hopeful twinkle sparked in Peter's eyes as he asked this question.

"If you're talking about the man in the mindscape, then yes, he does." She finished putting all the bandages back in the medical kit underneath the cot.

"Does he have a name?"

"He does. But, I can't tell you it at the moment. You'll learn another time. I'm sorry."

Peter's face fell minutely but it was so hard to tell that Wanda swore she imagined it.

"Can I... Meet him?" Spider almost whispered.

"Not today. And not tomorrow either. Maybe not even in the next week. But I promise you that you will sometime." She replied honestly from where she now sat in her previous spot. Spider noted that she was no longer nervous or afraid. Her hands didn't fidget anymore and the smell that came from her was more of a smooth, confident calmness.

It was silent for awhile after that and Wanda could tell that Peter was trying his best not cry in front of her again. When the silence became unbearable, she spoke up.

"Are you hungry?"

"No." He lied. In truth, the brunette's stomach was feeling very empty, but it wasn't time to eat yet. It was too early.

The witch gave him a very skeptical look yet felt she shouldn't say anything to him. Instead, she spoke to FRIDAY, "FRIDAY, can you send Dr. Maddison here with a bagel?"

There was no reply, but a minute later, Dr. Maddison–a lean man with straight blond hair and vibrant green eyes–knocked on the door. Wanda cracked it open–so Peter and Dr. Maddison couldn't see each other– and took the bagel. She thanked the Dermatologist before sitting back down. She handed the bagel to a confused and slightly wary Peter–who was eyeing the food with odd intensity.

"It's just bread. Eat."

"Thank you." He timidly took it and tore off a piece, popping it into his mouth. It tasted fresher than the bread he usually got, but other than that, it was just as plain as always.

"Do you have anymore questions for me?" Wanda asked.

"Well..." _Am I being insensitive?_ "You said you had friends who helped you. Who are they?"

"I can't tell you that right now, but you might meet them later today. If they can't today, then tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Okay, thank you. I don't have anymore questions." He took another bite of the plain bagel.

She stood up and headed to the door. "Thank you for talking to me and answering my questions honestly, you've helped me and yourself a lot. I'll come back later, maybe with my friends if they want. Try to get some sleep, okay?" She finished then added, "And don't move around too much, the bandages might loosen if you do." When Peter nodded, Wanda smiled and opened the door, but paused when she was half-way out. She looked back over her shoulder as Spider took the last bite of his bagel. "If you need anything or need me, ask FRIDAY."

Despite having no idea who FRIDAY is, Winter Spider nodded and watched Wanda leave, the click of the door reminding him that he was–once again–alone.

As if on cue, the music turned back on but Peter payed no heed to what it was saying. Instead, he tried–and failed–to keep fighting back tears. They spilled out of him like Niagara Falls, flowing down the side of his face and plopping onto the bedsheets. He clutched the white linen sheets with his left hand and wiped the tears off his face with his other. Even so, the tears kept pouring. In fear of someone walking in and seeing him like this, Spider kept his head down and his eyes trained on the snow-white colour of the covers. He sniffled and sobbed as quietly as possible, almost as if he were scared of alerting someone (which he was). His mind felt _shattered_. Peter could barely think about anything anymore. His memories had been, once again, muddled up and shoved under the ice, leaving behind the all-too-familiar blank slate. But it also left behind the annoying tug of familiarity, as if he were only centimeters out of reach of something– or some memory that was important.

The boy no longer even knew why he was crying, just that he was. He was sure it was connected with the guy–the fake guy he just killed. The man _did_ make him feel the stupid familiarity but also... Happy? It was so weird.

After almost half an hour of broken sobs, Spider finally slunk down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there demons, it's me, ya boi. How was this chapter? Hopefully okay. Stay safe!
> 
> skidadle, skidoodle, there goes Swindle
> 
> (That doesn't really rhyme but I don't care)


	14. Ch 13-Decisions and post-meeting discussions

**Wanda's POV**

Wanda stepped out of the Med room that Peter was occupying, quietly closing the door shut behind her. She couldn't face the others yet. Firstly, the witch needed to take a deep breath and take in everything that just happened. The girl sighed and slid down the wall onto the floor. She brought her hands up in a sort of praying motion over her nose and mouth. A few silent tears fell. Wanda sat there for around three minutes, replaying everything and calming her mind down from what she'd seen inside Peter's head. It was ridiculous how similar the boy was to herself, Pietro, and Bucky. But that only made her feel even more awful.

When she pulled herself together, Wanda got up and made her way to the elevator. All the while, she felt pretty happy with herself. The meeting went well and Spider didn't seem like a bad person. Her English had improved greatly since coming to America and moving in with the Avengers. Maybe not as good as her brother, but she was getting there. Wanda was snapped from her thoughts when the elevator dinged, announcing her arrival on the common floor.

**3rd POV**

The Avengers watched the meeting between the Witch and the Spider. Bucky had to leave when Peter began crying about killing the illusion Soldier. It was too much for him to bear; seeing his Spider crying. Pietro had to take a short breather in the kitchen when Peter experienced the pain, but he came back in the end. Natasha, Rhodey, and Steve were stiff but kept the same straight face the whole time. Tony remained curled up half on Steve's lap with his arms covering most of his face, blocking the view of his expressions. Clint got a little emotional when Peter went through the pain and ended up comforting Pietro. Sam just looked on pensively and Bruce had returned to his lab mid-way through.

Wanda emerged from the elevator and all heads turned to her. Before she arrived, they had gone back to watching **Tron Legacy** when the meeting ended. But now, they waited for her to speak.

"I had FRIDAY save everything from the mindscape. I wrote down notes just in case." The witch said as she placed the notebook on the coffee table. She looked around the room nervously and her hands began to fidget. "Before we get into the heavy stuff... Medically-wise, he's fine, besides the food issue. I changed some bandages and stuff but he's almost fully healed. He doesn't look like he's in physical pain. That might be the painkillers though. I'm sure Spider is perfectly capable of leaving his bed today."

"That's good. How about his head?" Natasha asked.

"If you mean the concussion, it's hard to say. Bruce will have to check that. As for everything else, nothing good. It's a war zone in there. His mind and HYDRA's influence are really hurting him mentally." She sighed heavily and flopped down beside her brother. "He– he doesn't even know why he hurt Bucky or why he was sorry. He doesn't know anything. He's lost. Truly lost. I don't know how to help him other than calming him down with my magic."

A few minutes of discussion passed and the conversation eventually died out. The Avengers were left in uncomfortable silence. Then Bruce walked in holding a StarkPad.

"I, uh, I ran a few DNA tests to look at his heritage and just got them back incase anyone is curious." He said nervously, reading the awkward silence.

"I'm curious." Natasha offered.

"Thanks Nat." Dr. Banner smiled and she did a little head bow back. "FRIDAY, please put the results up on the TV. Thanks."

" _Certainly, and you're welcome_."

The results popped up on the screen.

"We rounded the numbers to the closest whole instead of leaving them as decimals– just a note." Bruce said quickly before continuing, "As you see, he is 41% English– of British decent. He's 19% Dutch with possibilities of Danish in there, though it's unidentifiable. Then 30% Hispanic, mostly from Mexico but there's a trace of Puerto Rican in there. He's 3% Italian and 1% Scottish. The last 6% is a strong mix of Northern European countries that we can't pinpoint."

"So, he's European?" Clint asked.

"Yes Clint, for the most part, he is European." Bruce sighed in exasperation as he tiredly replied to the archer.

Steve spoke up after a long pause, "How is he right now?"

"Who? Peter or Bucky? Because they're both not here right now and they're both in some kind of distress." Clint remarked as he kept running his fingers through Pietro's hair.

"Both."

"FRIDAY?" Tony inquired.

" _Mr. Parker has just slipped into sleep after intense emotional and mental distress. Sergeant Barnes is in his room reading a book. He appears to be much calmer than before._ " The polite voice of the AI informed them.

"I think we should talk about a few things with Bucky. I know I need to, at least." Wanda said quietly from where she was curled up in the corner of the couch. But with the silent room, she was heard just fine.

"FRIDAY, send Bucky in here. Tell him it's okay and there's nothing wrong." Steve commanded, avoiding saying Peter's name. FRIDAY responded and a few minutes later, Bucky emerged from the elevator.

He walked up to the group with his hands shoved in his jeans and his face sporting a look of mild confusion and calmness. "What's goin' on?"

"I want to talk to you and the others about Peter, if it's okay with you." Wanda spoke up. The soldier only nodded and sat down on the floor beside Steve. "You saw most of our meeting and I don't think it's good if–"

"I can't see him, can I?" Bucky interrupted. It came out more as a statement than a question.

"No, I'm sorry Sergeant Barnes." Wanda replied in a hoarse whisper, looking on with sad eyes.

"'S okay." The soldier replied, drawing out a long breath and bringing his left knee to his chin.

"But there's a way. And I hope it works."

Everyone gave the teen a look that urged her to continue.

"If I could maybe meet with him everyday for an hour or two, I could train him to not hurt Sergeant Barnes." The intrigued looks she earned pushed her to continue. "I could keep making my illusions of Sergeant Barnes and train him to respond positively to him and not attack him. If he can go more than one meeting without attacking the Sergeant, than he can meet the real him. It might go slowly, but he'll learn that Mr. Barnes isn't going to hurt him and that he shouldn't hurt him either. It was just an idea." She rushed the last sentence nervously when the gazes that bore into her skull became too much.

"No, no. I like that idea. That's a very good idea, Witch." Stark said as he stroked his goatee pensively. He spontaneously turned to Bucky. "Barnes, how do you feel about it?"

"If I can see him again, then it's fine. Will he get hurt?"

"Mentally, yes. But I can calm him. The only thing getting hurt physically will be the fake you."

Bucky nodded, his eyes trained on the ground.

"That should work. Meanwhile, they won't be able to be in the same room. How are we going to do that? What about meals?" Natasha butt in.

"How about a schedule? And an attendance for meals? Peter should be used to schedules so it shouldn't be so hard for him to slip into this one." Steve suggested.

"What, like a five year old?" Sam snorted at the 'schedule' part.

"Well, he's not normal. With the amount of real-world experience he has, he might as well be five." Pietro's lightly accented voice drawled out from where it was buried in Clint's side.

"Anyway, he could either attend certain meals, or have certain days." Natasha said, directing the conversation back on track.

"Should be certain days." Bucky spoke up suddenly, his sentences choppy. "He wouldn't miss any meals with others. Would be giving him more normalness than just a few meals."

"I agree. So, what days should they each take."

"I got Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday." The soldier said immediately.

"Are you sure you don't want four days, Buck?"

"Don't matter. He needs to get better more than I do."

Steve knew it was pointless to argue with his stubborn friend. "Okay, then Peter will have Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Sunday. Any objections?" It was silent. "Good."

"How about when it's not their day?" Clint asked.

"They can eat in their rooms or somewhere else, I guess." Steve replied with a shrug.

"They should get to bring someone with them so they don't have to eat alone." Romanoff suggested.

"Agreed." Wanda murmured.

"Anything else to talk about or are we good here?" Sam asked.

"I told Peter that maybe you guys could meet him today. Or tomorrow. It doesn't really matter." The witch remembers her earlier discussion with Spider.

"And we still have to tell him his real name, don't we?" Pietro followed up, stretching his arms with a yawn.

"Who will do us the most noble honours?" Tony said, putting on an accent as he looked around the room. Everyone shied away from his gaze.

All except Natasha.

"I'll do it." She spoke confidently.

"He knows you! He could kill you, Nat." Clint pointed out.

"He won't. If Wanda's with me, he won't. He trusts her more than us anyway."

"Why me?" Wanda groaned, but before anyone could speak up, she answered her own question. "Yes, yes, I know why."

"After we break the news and Peter meets me, we could try bringing in Pietro first since he doesn't know him either."

"And what about us? Huh?" Tony spoke. "You send us in there and it's like sending a lamb to the slaughter. He knows who we are, Nat. We're not the safe ones now."

"He fought us once. Only once. And I'm willing to bet that he hasn't been hardwired to kill us as much as Bucky was to kill Steve." The two mentioned flinched a little. "You saw him in the footage, he was calm and under control."

"That was with Wanda's magic! Look, if he fought us once, he'll fight us again. There's something in that chip that tells him we're the bad guys here."

"That's why we make sure Wanda is with him whenever he's with one of us. If he acts out, she keeps him under control."

"I-I think you guys are forgetting something here." All eyes turned to Bruce, who was still standing in the same spot as before. "The chip is out. That means only things that have been hardwired for a long time will cause him to act out. Recent things like the rescue and fight won't affect him because they haven't been long-term ingrained into his instincts. He wouldn't have formed a negative reaction to seeing us, especially since the chip was taken out shortly after. However, if he has been programmed to respond negatively for a long time, then this doesn't apply." The Dr. explained.

"He has got a point." Stark said, pointing to Bruce and shrugging his shoulders.

"Even if Peter was... What's the word?" Wanda started but trailed off when she didn't know the word. She and Pietro exchanged a few words in whispered Russian before she continued. "Sorry, even if Peter was _hardwired_ to kill us, I'm not sure if I could keep him controlled.

"Welp," Tony clapped his hand together with a wolfish grin, "there's only one way to find out."

"This is an awful way to find out." Wanda groaned and _thunked_ her head against the wall.

"Relax, Wanda." Natasha soothed from beside her, going over the file in her hand for the hundredth time. "We're just going to go in there, I'll speak to him, and all you have to do is make sure he stays calm if he starts getting negative. You did it earlier."

The teen began pacing in front of the door. "Yes but he wasn't trying to kill me! He was only sad and angry. Not murderous. What if I can't control him? What if he kills you? What if–"

The assassin cut her off before she could continue her blabbering. "Stop it with the 'what-ifs'. What happens, happens. There's nothing you can do about it. Now, let's go."

Just before the witch could protest, Natasha opened the door and dragged the blue-eyed girl in by the wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaayyyy that's that chapter. I'm really sorry about how awful it is, I had very little idea on what to write. Feel free to hate this one. Half of it was more of a filler for what's yet to come. (Don't worry, it gets better later). Anyway, keep washing your hands, avoiding people, and stay safe out there! Toodles.
> 
> ~Swindle


	15. Ch 14-A name

**3rd POV**

Peter woke up to the sound of something loud– _music_ –coming from all around him. It hurt his ears and he grimaced as he blearily looked around the room. Nothing had changed except that the shadows casted by the sun were longer. When he felt fully awake–thanks to the music–a voice spoke to him.

" _My apologies Mr. Spider. I did not intend to hurt your ears, however, I had to wake you._ " The female-sounding voice echoed around the room. It came from everywhere and nowhere, just like the music had seconds ago.

"Who's there?" There was nobody else in the room and his Spider Sense wasn't tingling, so he figured it was safe to ask one question.

" _My apologies once again. I have not introduced myself. My name is Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth. However, everyone calls me FRIDAY. I am an AI– Artificial Intelligence. I control the security, files, data, messages, appliances, and other technological things. I am also the Internet. Feel free to ask me anything you'd like. Please keep in mind that I have the authorization to refuse some questions_." The polite female voice informed him with a seemingly happy tone of voice.

He didn't really know how to respond. "Thank you." Was all he came up with.

" _Happy to help_."

Suddenly, the door swung open and a lady that looked faintly familiar walked in while dragging someone actually familiar behind her; Wanda. The lady had files in one hand, fiery red hair, and she a wore simple blue sweater–that was much too big for her–with black yoga pants. Spider noticed that her eyes were a rather piercing shade if peridot that seemed to analyze everything they saw. The lady stood confidently, but otherwise portrayed no emotions. Not even a hint of fear of anxiety. Just nothingness. She reminded him of something but he couldn't place a finger on it, not yet. Other than that, he felt a twinge of anger and hostility towards her. The reason? He had no idea. But the temptation to stab her was lingering fiercely in the back of his mind.

"Hey Spider." She said, her eyes turning... Soft?

He responded appropriately, "Hello ma'am." He turned to Wanda and dipped his head, "Hello Wanda." Peter didn't need to introduce himself since it seemed like this lady already knew who he was.

"Since you already know Wanda here, I'll introduce myself. My name is Natasha Romanoff. You can call me Natasha. I'm here to tell you something and maybe ask a few questions." It wasn't exactly a statement nor a question, a perfect inbetween. So, Spider nodded.

The name plucked some kind of chord in the depths of Peter's mind. Natasha Romanoff. She sounded familiar. Her name said 'danger' in his mind. Not danger towards him, but danger in general.

Natasha pulled up a chair beside the foot of his bed just as Wanda had done. But this time, Wanda sat on one of the chairs against the wall. Her eyes flickered red every now and then as she attentively watched the young male assassin.

"Before we get into the good stuff, how do you feel?" Ms. Romanoff asked.

"I feel fine." He answered simply. But it was the truth– sort of.

She eyed him skeptically but didn't comment. "I won't sugarcoat this for you because I figure you can handle this. Do you know your real name?"

"I don't have one. I'm not allowed to have one."

"Why aren't you allowed to have one?" The ex-assassin knew the answer but asked anyway.

"The Men say that freaks like me aren't allowed names." Peter responded as if he were reciting something he had said so many times before–which he had. The boy analyzed the way Ms. Romanoff sat in hopes to get some more insight on who she is.

Natasha nodded vaguely and looked in a file she was holding, then looked back at him. "What if I were to tell you that you do have a name?"

"I'm not supposed to have one. However, if I were to have one, I think I'd be happy." _I don't have a name. I don't have a name. I don't have a name. False hope. False hope_ , he chanted to himself in his mind.

"Of course you're supposed to have one." She took a deep breath and looked directly in the boy's eyes. Green met honey.

"Your real name is Peter– Peter Parker."

He met her striking eyes with wavering ferocity. "H-how?" Peter. He liked that name. Surely it wasn't his, right? _There must be a mistake_. The disbelief washed over him. _False hope. False hope. It can't be. Can it...?_

"Your name is Peter because that's the name your parents gave you–the one you were born with. You haven't been called Peter because HYDRA doesn't want you knowing anything about yourself." Romanoff slipped a paper out of the file and folded it so only around a quarter was left for her to read.

Spider couldn't figure her out. She held herself together so neatly and gracefully, never letting a single emotion shimmer in her eyes or be portrayed in her actions. Natasha had such an emotionless look to her that he couldnt help but be reminded of something. What was that something? Was it a someone? Or a someplace?

"Here, look." She said as she let him look at the quarter of paper she had folded.

Sure enough, 'Peter Parker' was printed clearly beside a picture of himself that looked only a year or two old. Underneath was his birthday, HYDRA-given name, and info that was too cut off for him to read.

All Spider could do was stare at the paper– at his name. He had a name. And actual name. Not just some numbers, letters, and the name of an animal he was similar to. And not a HYDRA-given name that he hated. There was a literal human name. It was so far out of reach his entire life but now he could see it sitting in front of him written in a neat font of English letters. This was something he was forbidden to ask about or he'd get punished. Something he was never allowed to have, yet it belonged to every single human– it was a basic right. Something he could call himself other than 'PTR Arachnid 24601', or 'Arachnid', or even 'Spider'. He liked the name Spider a lot, but it was nothing compared to having a human name. This was something he'd wanted for as long as he knew about real names– which was since he was five. He'd thought so much about his real name. He didn't know many real names, so the only ones he thought of were the ones in the very few books he read.

Peter felt so _happy_.

There was no hint of anger or HYDRA resistance in his head. His mind was his own right now.

He didn't even realize the small tears that rolled down his cheeks until Wanda spoke up.

"Are you okay, Spider?" She asked warily, slowly walking over to the bed.

"Y-yes. I'm okay." And for the first time in awhile, Spider– _Peter_ was telling the truth about his emotions.

Natasha smiled. "Do you want to keep calling yourself 'Spider' or do you want this name? It doesn't matter, the choice is yours."

A choice. His mood immediately plummeted. Spider hated choices. If he chose wrong, it led to punishment. The Men usually chose for him– thankfully. Peter didn't know what to choose. _Will choosing my real name lead to punishment or reward? Should I stick with my usual one since its the one I've had all my life? Is this a test? Is something going to happen?_ He started internally panicking. Thankfully, his breathing remained controlled. But his mask cracked. A look of worry and uncertainty melted onto his face.

Natasha and Wanda didn't know why he was hesitating, but they figured he was panicking about something they said. The redhead slowly neared Peter, keeping her body language as non-threatening as possible. Wanda stood by in case his panic grew and he needed to be controlled.

"Hey, Spider, it's okay. It's okay. You don't need to think about this." Natasha stood beside him now at a reasonable but still somewhat close distance. "Take some deep breaths. In, out. In, out. In–."

She was cut off when something snapped in Peter's mind. _Natasha Romanoff. Red room. Assassin. Avengers. Kill Avengers. Not safe. HYDRA. Needles. Kill Black Widow_.

The boy's eyes glazed over–not a good sign–and for a split-second, he looked directly in Romanoff's eyes as if he were challenging her. Then, his left arm lunged for her neck, yanking out the IV's on the way. This was something Natsahsa was worried would happen but didn't think it would catch her off-guard so easily.

"Mission: Kill Avengers." He stated blankly as his hand constricted tightly around her neck.

The redhead never struggled, which confused Peter. Instead, he felt someone–he didn't know who since it happened in a blur–place their hand on his head. In an instant, the world flashed crimson before slipping into an inky abyss.

Natasha walked confidently into the common room while Wanda followed with shaky knees.

"How was it?" Clint asked, his eyes remaining trained on his game of Mario Kart against Bucky.

"Almost as expected." Natasha replied at the same time Wanda said, "Scary."

Pietro looked up from his book at his sister and he rushed over when he saw she looked a little shaken up.

"What's wrong Wanda? он сделал тебе больно? (Did he hurt you)" he asked worriedly, guiding her to the spot beside him on the couch.

"No, no. I'm fine. He just tried to strangle Natasha to death, that's all." She replied calmly, pulling a loose strand of hair out of her face.

All eyes turned to Romanoff. "Hey, it was an educational experience." She shrugged and went to the bar for some late afternoon vodka.

"What part of that was educational?" Steve asked, looking at her like she had seventeen eyes.

"He still knows his mission is to kill us, _but_ he didn't try to kill me right away, even when Wanda wasn't doing anything. Which–by my understanding–means that his orders have not been ingrained in his head for long at all." Natasha leaned against the bar, taking a sip of her Vodka.

"Hm 'Educational'." Bucky muttered as he blue-shelled Clint.

"Other than your near-death experience, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the meeting?" Tony asked as he walked back into the room, wiping his oiled-up hands with a rag.

"I'd say it went fine– as expected at least. So probably an eight. Wanda?"

"Nothing else went wrong, so yes, an eight works. His mind was mostly calm, other than the back of his head. That part was wanting to stab Natasha. Peter was able to fight it okay."

"WOOO take that Grandpa!" Clint cheered as he won the game. Bucky wore a mask of indifference.

"I assume you got far enough to tell him his name?" Steve received two nods. "How did he react?"

"Wanda, you have the magic, how was his head?" The redhead turned to the witch.

"At first, when you were talking about him having a name, he was thinking it was 'False hope'." She made air quotations. "I think he thought you were just lying to him and that it was his fault for thinking he might have a name. Then when you told him his name, he first thought that you were mistaking him for someone else. But he liked the name. Very much. Peter was thinking about how he always dreamt of a name because everyone in the world had one but him. He was so happy he finally had one. Really, truly, happy. He- um, he had names like, uh," she struggled to pronounce these, "'Romeo' and 'Mercutio' in his head. I think they were ones he read in books. But, yeah, he liked the name. I think that's why he was crying a little– because he was so desperate for something he didn't have." She finished with difficulty, her accent thicker than normal from having to talk so much.

"I see, then why was he panicking?" Natasha asked, downing her Vodka.

"I didn't really see, I only got one word. It was 'Name', but I don't know why he'd panic over his name."

A few moments passed of thoughtful silence.

"Glad he likes the name." Steve commented.

"Mhm, it suits him." Clint hummed.

"Oh, I think, since he attacked Natasha, you shouldn't speak to him yet. Maybe...?" Wanda said, unsure whether she should mention it or not.

"Pietro can." The redhead assassin noted as she plunked herself down on the couch, draping her legs over Clint's lap.

"Is it safe?" Pietro asked.

"Yes. I'll be there in case, but you should be fine." Wanda said, sipping on tea she got from– wait where did she get the tea?

So Pietro met Peter at five in the evening. The meeting went just fine. They got along well and Pietro almost, _almost_ got a smile out of the little Spider. The two talked for around half an hour with Wanda supervising them. Peter only felt like attacking him once but it was because Pietro brought up birds– that was linked to the Vulture. Other than that, it went spectacularly.

"Should we invite him for dinner?" Pietro asked everyone as he, Wanda, and Clint made dinner.

"That's a risky decision." Steve commented, sipping his coffee.

"Our job and entire lives are a risky decision." Pietro snorted as he stirred the contents of the pot.

"True." Natasha mused.

"We couldn't 'invite' him anyway. He doesn't live by invitations or choices. We'd have to say 'Come, we're eating dinner now' and then he'd listen." Tony explained with a yawn.

"Even if he did eat dinner with us, one of us might end up dead by the end of the night." Clint pointed out, slicing up the cucumbers.

"I think I can control him. I just have to sit next to him. And Pietro on the other side. We are a team of Super heroes, right? You guys got him once, you can do it again." Wanda suggested, taste-testing the soup that Pietro was stirring.

"Wanda is correct. Statistically, this idea only has a 29% chance of failing." Vision spoke up, raising his hand a bit to gain attention.

"Hey, this is off-topic but where did Rhodey and Sam go?" The witch realized they were gone.

"Back to DC. Sam said, and I quote, 'I ain't doing this shit today! One break. One break is all I ask for!' Then he left." Tony shrugged and spun in the breakfast bar seat. "Rhodey went back too, saying something about his duties as a Colonel."

Wanda hummed in acknowledgement and the next few minutes were spent in comfortable silence. The only noise was the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and some light background music courtesy of FRIDAY.

"...So we're inviting him to dinner, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. And I hope you guys are okay wherever you may be. Make sure to take care of yourself <3
> 
> ~Swindle


	16. Ch 15-Dinner

**3rd POV**

Peter woke to see that Pietro and Wanda were gone. The only thing to show him that time passed was that the shadows–that were previously on the floor–had slowly inched halfway onto the wall. It was quiet. Just like his cell in the base– except this one is a lot nicer and cleaner.

Everything came back to him.

 _My name is Peter Parker. Peter Parker... It's a nice name. Why do I have that name? I was born with it. Natasha. I attacked her, didn't I? Why did I do that? I'm not angry at her. I feel bad. She didn't deserve to be attacked. Pietro. He was nice. Funny, I think. Twin of Wanda. Fast._ Peter thought in choppy sentences, an effect of his sedatives. He felt sort of... Confused. He couldn't think in any complexity. He was tired too, abnormally tired. And he felt calm.

The spider sat there for who knows how long. The shadows now fully sat on the wall and outside was only a few shades dimmer, still holding a pale blue colour. He sat there patiently, not knowing what to expect. He assumed that he was going to be taken somewhere, as he always is. So, he sat and listened to the quiet–not quiet for him–music that seemed to surround him.

Nearly an hour of sitting passed. He watched as the door clicked open and Wanda walked in. She was carrying clothes in her hands. Peter made sure he was sitting straight and proper.

"Good evening, Peter. How are you?" Wanda places the clothes on the table.

"Good evening, Wanda. I am feeling calm." Spider responded automatically. It didn't slip by him that she had called him Peter.

"Good. It's the sedatives. They calm you down and make you feel a little more tired than normal. I'm going to remove the needles now." She explained shortly, beginning to remove the needles.

"So I don't hurt anyone?" Was his response to the 'calm you down' part. He regretted asking a question and barely stopped himself from flinching away from her.

"Yes. And so that your mind stays relaxed and as far from HYDRA as possible. It's just for today."

He nodded. "Yes, Wanda."

"I'm going to leave room so you can take your hospital gown off and put those clothes on." She pointed to the pile of neatly folded clothes. "Then knock on the door. I'll come back and put another needle in your arm– it's the sedatives."

"Yes, Wanda." She smiled and exited, her cornflower blue eyes sparkled with some sort of excitement.

Peter got up from the bed and stretched. God, it felt like his limbs were encased in stone. When he was satisfied by all the pops and cracks he heard, the spider approached the clothes.

 _A deep blue long-sleeve shirt, that's normal. A pair of pants that are light blue and made of a fabric I've never felt before. Odd. Some... I think these are what people call 'socks'? Fresh underwear, also normal._ Peter put all the clothes on and knocked on the door.

Wanda came back in. "Okay, sit down so I can put the needle in. Roll up your left sleeve." He obeyed and watched as she got another needle from the box under the table. She cleaned it, attached it to the IV pop, and injected it into his arm. A steady flow of liquid began down the tube and into his arm.

"I'll just tape this up." Wanda put medical tape over the needle to make sure it didn't slide out. "There. Now, stand up and hold onto your IV pop."

He grabbed the pole of his IV pop.

"Follow me." She opened the door and walked out.

Peter followed close behind her, pulling his IV pop. When he left his room, a wave of noise hit him. Many people were talking but he couldn't make out what about thanks to the amount of voices. Far-off footsteps were drowned out by the walls and the clatter of metal rang through the halls. Peter looked to the left and saw that, down the hallway, there was a glimpse of a large room full of... Doctors? Scientists? He didn't know, and it didn't matter. A flicker of anxiety danced in his stomach when he saw them. The rest of the hallway had a few doors just like his. The walls and floors were simple and white. Just like the HYDRA base.

"Hi." A familiar voice from beside him snapped him out of his abnormal curiosity.

Peter turned his head and dipped it in greeting. "Good evening Pietro."

"Hey Peter, c'mon let's go." Pietro smiled and nodded in the opposite direction of the doctors, towards a weird-looking metal door at the other end of the hall. Wanda was already over there.

They walked down the hall and Peter kept his eyes down and his free arm behind his back. He didn't dare to look at either of them or the hallway they were in. It was a rule in HYDRA; When taken somewhere, keep your eyes down and never look at anyone or anything other than the floor.

He could see the bottom of the weird doors slide open. They walked in. It was smaller than his cell. Much smaller. He could fit at least two of these in his cell. And his cell wasn't even that big at all. He hated small spaces. _Small. Crushed. Help. Vulture._

"FRIDAY, take us to the common room please." Wanda said. She took note of Spider's sudden stiffness and the way he kept his head down.

Peter felt them move upwards. Seconds later, the doors slid open again and they walked out. Finally. Spider hated the small box. It made him panic. Panic is emotion. Emotion is weakness.

They stopped just as they got off the small box. "Peter, you can lift your head and look around." Pietro said.

 _No. It's a trap. They're trying to make me lift my head so they can just punish me. I won't do it. I won't. I've made that mistake before. But what if I don't raise my head? Will they punish me anyway? Will I get punished either way?_ Peter didn't know what to do.

"Peter, it's okay, you don't have to." Wanda soothed. "We're just telling you that you have the choice to."

That was the wrong thing to say. Instead of looking up, Peter just looked more panicked and determined to keep his eyes down. Wanda met her brother's eyes and they had a brief conversation in their minds. She nodded after she heard her brother's thoughts. She knew what she had to do, as much as she hated it.

"Peter, I'm ordering you to lift your head and look around." The witch spoke confidently and with a stern voice.

That got him. It was an order. A specific one. His head snapped up and he hesitantly looked around him. Peter caught sight of a sleek dark grey wall to the left of him– it eventually turned to white farther along. Attached to the wall was a table that made an L-shape. Behind it were shelves of... Bottles? Were those bottles? They were glasses with liquid in them. On the other side of the table were a few chair-things. On the right was a short wall width-wise that ended and revealed a... What was that? There were machines, maybe? Mostly white and some dark brown things. A few storage units. Cupboards? Peter thinks those are cupboards. They were in sort-of-a-room-but-not-a-room. It was open to the rest of the place but the cupboards made it more closed off. The roof overhead was a bit low and it made the area he was in look like a tiny cave entrance. But only a few paces away, everything opened up to the humongous room with a high ceiling. Straight ahead was a humungous and stunning wall-to-floor window that looked out onto a city. Thanks to the little closed-off entrance he was in, he couldn't see the full extent of the window. _A city. Woah._ Peter had to use every ounce of self-restraint he had to not rush over and look at the view. Past the L-shaped table, he saw a large black thing with a strip of white and black rectangles along with a bench.

A few meters away, the floor had a step that went down, creating a large lower area that Peter couldn't see an end to. In it was a large white half-circle thing that looked comfortable and some cushiony chairs. And the big black thing he assumed to be a screen sat in front of them, a glass table in-between. Peter saw parts of more than one beautiful staircases that snaked up and along the walls. They went all around the walls–the ones he could see–to who-knows-where. Glass walls surrounded the stairs, preventing anyone climbing them from falling off. Everything ahead of him was so open. He could fit four training rooms in here! Nothing in this big room looked familiar. The spider tried to make some connections to the books he read and the things in this place, but it was hard.

Peter looked around for exits just in case he needed get away. _The door-thing we just came out of, the big window, those stairs that go up, and the vents above me. Four exits. Not bad._

Through the... Cupboard-place, he could make out two people sitting down. But heard hushed murmurs come from more than two voices. _Shit. People. Oh no, I'm in trouble, aren't I? I'm in a new place and I've probably already broken one of their rules._

The glimpses of people he saw completely dampened his astonished curiosity. Now, anxiety and fear twisted in his stomach. He forced the feeling down and remained calm.

"Peter, there are eight people here including myself and Pietro. Nine including you. If it gets to be too much with all of them around, tell either of us. Do you understand?" Wanda asked in a whisper, nodding towards herself and Pietro.

"I do understand, Wanda." He replied, knowing that he wouldn't intentionally ask anything of them in fear of being punished. _What's going to be too much? What's happening? Are they all going to hurt me?_

"Good, you'll be meeting our friends. We're having dinner and we thought it would be good if you joined us." She smiled. _Dinner? With these new people? What? I'm so confused. They're not experiments too, are they?_

"Come with us." Pietro began walking and Peter kept his head up–as ordered–as he followed, clutching onto his IV pop tightly. Wanda walked beside him.

The three of them walked past the short wall and around the cupboard-thing-place. Peter tried to remain as confident as possible, even when his legs felt like wet noodles. He found the sedatives very useful in keeping him calm, otherwise he might not be able to keep his emotionless mask up. When he rounded the corner, everything opened up and he had a full view of the room. He noticed all the hushed whispers turned into a dead silence. Peter stood straight and stiff, examining what he saw. The room was sort-of a half circle. The ceiling was three times the height of the one in the entrance. Way above the cupboard-place and the wall he was facing, he saw a long, rounded glass window tainted black. Across the room, there was a staircase that lead up to it. The other staircases travelled up the walls, disappearing into unseen hallways. Peter focused back onto the people in front of him. There was a very long white table with eleven chairs– but only six people currently occupying it. Most of them stared at Peter with a mixture of nervousness, fear, and... Pity? He looked at each person closely and analyzed them.

At the far end of the table–the head–there was a man with dark brown hair. It was smooth and pushed back– looking soft and taken care of. He had a goatee too. His eyes were also a dark brown, resembling Wanda's hair colour. He wore a black shirt that had the letters AC/DC printed boldly on it in red. The man sat back in his hair, giving off a laid-back vibe, but his eyes darted around the room every few seconds and his finger tapped the table. He was nervous. The opposite of him–closest to Peter–sat a girl with strawberry-blond hair that curled just a little on the end. He could just barely see her rosy cheeks and blue eyes. Her body language showed very little fear and she kept a confident and proper aura.

On the left side–the one closest to the cupboards–were three people. One man with short blond hair next to the previous guy. He was well-built and looked strong– something Peter noted if he had to fight him. The man wore a simple white t-shirt. His eyes were a bold shade of sky-blue and they held Peter's gaze confidently. Everything about this guy radiated gentle-but-intimidating and confident, yet his finger still tapped the table. Next to him was an empty seat. Next to that was Natasha– who looked as emotionless and analytical as usual. Then the last person on that side was a man with spiky dirty-blond hair. It wasn't an untidy spiky-ness though. His eyes were a Turkish blue– the kind that had a little tint of teal but still remained blue. He wore a red shirt and a grey jacket. The guy looked more scared than nervous.

Last but not least was the man across from him. He had slightly curly unkempt black hair and black-rimmed glasses that sat crookedly on his face. His eyes were a deep mocha brown and he wore a nice purple dress shirt with the sleeves cuffed messily to his elbows. This man looked the most nervous out of all of them thanks to his bouncing leg and him subtly wringing his hands under the table. The other four chairs were empty.

"Peter, these are our friends. Everyone, meet Peter." Wanda gestured to the six people at the table. Then she turned to the curly-haired teen, "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Yes, Wanda. My name is-" _What is my name? PTR Arachnid 24601? Peter? Winter Soldier? Spider?_ The boy turned to Wanda, his eyes full of confusion.

Wanda momentarily took a peek into his mind after seeing his confusion. Then she realized, he didn't know what to call himself anymore. So, she whispered in his ear, "It's okay, do you feel comfortable introducing yourself as Peter?" He nodded– he wanted that more than anything. Even if he didn't really know what was going on, something inside him told him that he didn't need to keep his HYDRA names here. "Then do that."

Peter turned back to the table. "Forgive me and allow me to start over. My name is Peter Parker. It's a pleasure to meet you." _Is it?_ He dipped his head in greeting and respect.

Pietro looked to Tony to start the introductions. The man took a deep breath, "Hey Peter, the name's Tony Stark-Rogers. Or simply Tony Stark."

Next was Steve. "Hello Peter, I'm Steve Stark-Rogers or just Steve Rogers. It's nice to finally meet you too." He smiled warmly. _The same last name... they must be married. Or brothers but that's more unlikely. And what does he mean by 'finally'?_

"Hey Peter, you already know me." Natasha grinned in an almost cheeky way.

"Hi Peter, the name's Clint Barton. Nice to meet you." The spiky-haired man said, offering a small but caring (and slightly terrified) smile.

"Pepper Potts, pleasure to meet you too." The lady said curtly but kindly.

"Hi Peter. I'm Dr. Bruce Banner. It's nice to meet you." The nervous man waved a little and smiled anxiously.

"Let's sit down." Wanda said, gently leading him towards where Pietro was already sitting beside Mr. Stark. She pulled out the chair beside her brother. "You can sit here."

Spider hesitantly sat in the chair. It felt weird. He's not used to chairs. Normally he's either sitting on the rough, dirty ground of his cell, or the painfully cushioned chair of the brainwash-thing. This chair was a simple and white one without cushions or dirt. It shaped around his torso, making him fit nicely. Despite its niceness, Peter felt uncomfortable and undeserving, sitting in this chair. Like he didn't belong.

"Thank you." The honey-eyed boy said, studying his hands that were now placed on his knees. Wanda only nodded and sat beside him.

An awkward silence settled on the group and Tony was the one to break it. "Who's hungry?"

Mumbles of 'me' and 'I am' travelled around the table. Peter stayed silent and still, unsure of what to do or what to expect.

"Lift your head, Peter. Remember what I told you earlier." Wanda said sternly, side-eyeing him with–what she hoped to look like–authority. _Right, I still have to have my head up. I'll be punished for this, for sure_. So, he lifted his head up and was met with the sight of the empty chair beside Steve.

Other than that, food was being served and passed around. Or at least, Peter thought it was food since he'd never actually seen this stuff before. There was a pot in front of Ms. Romanoff that had a thin brown-ish liquid in it. There were little green spheres, slices of something orange, and cubes of an off-white solid thing. It smelled _absolutely amazing_. In the center of the table was something he _did_ recognize. A basket with long, thick slices of bread in them. The smell of what can only be described as pure warmth and joy seeped off them. Near Mr. Stark was a beautiful large bowl filled with green leaves, little red ovals, and pale green circles. It was all covered in an almost translucent purple-red sauce/dressing. It smelled earthy and mellow to Peter. Directly in front of him was what looked like a dish. It was circular, white, glossy, and had a slight dip to it. A hollow brown half-sphere sat on top. On either side of the dish sat a scooper-looking thing and a mini pitchfork–assumed to be the fork and spoon he's read about.

"Peter, can you pass me your plate?" Mr. Stark asked.

He freaked out. _What was the plate? Was it the hollow half-sphere or the large circular white dish? Is the plate either of these tools? No, I've seen forks and spoons in kids books before, I think. Oh no, no. I'm going to be laughed at for this._ Peter looked around him and saw the others serving themselves food like it was an everyday thing (which it was to them). That made him panic more.

Pietro leaned in beside him and tapped the white dish a few times. "It's this thing." He said and smiled.

"Thank you." The curly-haired teen passed Mr. Stark the plate and the man proceeded to put some of the leafy stuff on. He could feel the eyes on him. Mr. Stark returned his plate.

"Peter, can you pass me your bowl? It's the brown thing." Ms. Romanoff asked and Spider did as told. She put a scoop of the liquid in the bowl and gave it back.

"Here." Wanda said, placing a piece of bread on his plate. "It's fresh bread Steve made earlier." Peter said thanks to Steve, Natasha, and Wanda for helping him– and in Steve's case, making bread.

He looked at his–assumed to be–food. A bowl filled a little more than a quarter with liquid, some of the leaf stuff that took up almost a third of his plate, and a big slice of bread. In total, it was a bit more than what he got daily. But he didn't really know what to do. The others were starting to eat it so he knew it was edible. It _smelled_ edible. Doesn't mean he's allowed to eat it. This might be some big test. Even if he could, he didn't know how to eat the leafy stuff and the liquid. Something suddenly nudged his right side and he flinched away.

"Sorry." Wanda apologized, feeling bad for touching him. "You're allowed to eat. We're not going to punish you and this isn't some sort of trick, we promise. So go ahead and enjoy the food."

"Thank you." The only thing Peter recognized was the bread, so that's the only thing he ate. The boy took the bread in his hands and began to tear off pieces, eating them quickly and stuffing them in his mouth due to how hungry he was. A few people glanced at him as he ate– Spider was not exactly messy, but his eating etiquette for bread wasn't first-class. They didn't blame him though– it's not his fault he wasn't raised properly. The boy kept his head some-what lowered, focusing solely on the bread. It tasted so much better than his usual half-loaf. Sadly, this was only a third of the amount of bread he usually gets. But Peter didn't want to risk eating unfamiliar foods for any reason. When he was done, the others were still just starting their meals.

"Thanks for making dinner Wanda, Pietro, and Clint." Dr. Banner broke the silence. 'Thank you's' went around the table.

"No problem. Besides, if Vision tried to cook, who knows what could happen!" Clint laughed as he tore his eyes away from Peter. "Last time he tried to bake something, he put cumin instead of cinnamon. They were supposed to be cinnamon buns. Remember?" He joked lightly, meaning no harm. The others chuckled at the memory.

Steve smiled. "Don't get me started about his cooking. He practically poisons us. I thought the food I ate during my time in the army was bad but some of the things Vision cooks manage to out-disgust me."

Pietro shot a playful look at his sister from over Peter's bowed head. "With you cooking, I thought you _would_ poison us." Wanda glared back at him. _Poison? Poisoning us? Am I being poisoned? Is that what's happening? Is that why they're being so nice?_ Peter looked around and saw everyone joking, laughing, and eating their food. _No, I can't be being poisoned. I saw them take the food right out of their containers and not touch them once._

"Peter, aren't you hungry?" Ms. Romanoff asked gently, ignoring Clint's loud laugh at something Bruce said. Spider hesitated in answering but Natasha quirked her eyebrow as if to say 'don't lie to me'. So, he nodded. "Yes, Ms. Romanoff."

"Go ahead and eat. It's not poisoned." She offered a small smile, seeming to read his mind. "We want you to eat as much as you want."

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff." By now, the table had gotten quieter and the only two left talking were Pepper and Bruce. The others snuck glances in the young teen's direction.

He went to reach for the fork but realized something kind of crucial; he had no idea how to use one. Honestly. He has never had to use a fork before because all he ever eats is bread. Peter began looking around the table, searching for someone who was using theirs. Nobody was. They were all either pausing their eating to talk or to observe each other– mostly Peter. _Oh jeez why could I have been so_ stupid _? I should've paid more attention! I look so ridiculous– not being able to use a... What is this, a fork? And I don't even know what this stupid food is!_

"Peter, is there something wrong?" Pietro asked. He saw how frozen the boy was.

Spider remained silent and unmoving.

"You have to tell us if something is wrong."

"I don't know how..." He trailed off, not even knowing what to say.

Pietro looked confused and turned to his sister, who had heard everything. Wanda's eyes flashed red, looking into Peter's mind. Then she sent her brother a message through her mind. The boy's eyes lit up and he turned back to Peter.

"Peter, do you know how to hold a dart?"

"Yes, Pietro."

"Holding your utensils," He raised his fork and spoon, "are kind of the same idea. Try it out."

Peter held his fork like a dart.

"That's good. Can I touch your hand?" Peter nodded and kept his eyes on the boy's hand as the older re-adjusted the younger's grip. "Like this. You don't have to hold it tight. Just make sure you're in control. It's the same for a spoon. You use your spoon for almost everything that's in a bowl. Forks are for plate foods. But it depends on the consistency of the food too– or just personal preference."

"Thank you." Spider said genuinely. He carefully stabbed a piece of the leafy stuff with his fork. The boy examined it curiously and proceeded to put it in his mouth. He savoured it as he chewed, soaking in the colourful flavours. _Oh my gosh this is so good. It tasted kind of like... Plants? But really good. It's sort of slimy with whatever this liquid is but still good_. He didn't even know how to describe these new flavours. Peter didn't even know he had 'Mmm'd with bliss and delight until Wanda huffed out a laugh beside him.

"Is that good?" She asked.

"Amazing." He responded after he swallowed a second bite of the leaves. "Thank you."

Wanda paused, studying the young teen beside her. "I can sense that you want to ask a question."

"What are these?" Peter asked cautiously, taking his time in each word. He pointed to his leafy stuff.

"Those leaves you just ate are called lettuce. The red things are cherry tomatoes and the green things are cucumbers. There's a thing covering them called dressing. It gives flavour. Together, they make a salad. The thing in your bowl is called soup. The liquid is broth, the orange stuff are carrots, the tiny green circles are peas, and the beige blocks are potatoes." She explained, pointing to each thing. "It's all very healthy and good for you."

"Thank you very much." He continued eating the leafy- no, the salad, taking his time to savour each bite despite how hungry he was. The gazes on him receded and the conversation returned as usual. As he ate, Peter noticed the different textures of the salad. The lettuce was slim and slimy but crispy and crunchy in some parts– very yummy. He really liked the texture and flavour of the cucumbers. For the tomatoes, he was okay with the flavour but not so much the texture. Nevertheless, every bit of salad was consumed with satisfaction.

Peter heard a soft buzzing hum and looked up to see someone _literally go through a wall_. Well, it was more of a some _thing_. The thing resembled an average human, save for the fact that it had red fiber skin with metal bits and a glowing yellow-orange rock on it's forehead. He wore a cotton blue sweater and dark jeans.

"Vis! How many times have I told you to go through the door?" Wanda scolded the humanoid.

"I apologize, Wanda. It appears to be not enough times. I am sorry that I am late for dinner. I seem to be very fascinated with this book." He held up a copy of 'Aristotle and Dante discover the secrets of the universe'. Then he went to sit down in the empty chair beside Wanda. Peter noted that he never took food, only looked around the table.

"Peter," Wanda turned to the Spider, "this is Vision. Incase you're wondering, no, he's not human. He's an AI like FRIDAY, but he has a physical body." Then she turned to the AI, "Vision, this is Peter."

"Hello Peter." He greeted simply.

"Good evening, Mr. Vision." The assassin responded and went back to his eating when nothing else was said. He slowly scooped up some soup, looking at it wearily. He found it odd. A liquid that you eat instead of drink. It sure smelled like the most amazing thing in all of existence though. Some steam was wafting off of it, indicating that it was quite warm. Peter put the spoonful in his mouth and instantly regretted it. Oh gosh was it _hot_. The inside of his mouth was burning and he reluctantly swallowed it down, nearly squirming in his seat as the heat travelled into his stomach.

Pietro's laugh sounded beside him. "Careful, it's hot. Blow on it first. Like this." He scooped some up, blew on it a little, and ate it.

Peter turned back to his soup and did as told. It helped a little but the food was still warm. _How can something taste so darn good? This is even better than the salad_. Internally, Peter sighed happily. As he ate the soup much slower than the salad, he turned his attention to the chair in front of him. It was still empty. Nobody had come and sat in it. They've been eating for nearly twenty minutes and almost everyone was done. But still, the seat next to Mr. Rogers was empty. Surely someone usually sat there, otherwise the chair wouldn't be there in the first place. Right?

"Peter, is there a reason why you look like you're about to attack the chair?" Steve's calm and soothing voice broke his train of thought. An expression of bemusement was plastered on his handsome face.

"No, Mr. Rogers."

The soldier leaned forward and quirked an eyebrow as if to say 'Really? You're not fooling anyone'. The rest of the table stole glances at the interaction. Spider felt very obliged to say what he was thinking because oh _jeez_ was Mr. Rogers intimidating.

"Is there somebody you're waiting for? The chair wouldn't be there normally if nobody ever sat there, would it? There are four chairs on that side and five on this, yet Mr. Vision sat on this side– the unequal one. It indicates that somebody probably sits there." Peter confessed what he'd been thinking about. When Steve and everyone else just looked at him, he immedietly felt awful for speaking. "I'm sorry I spoke. Forgive me. I will remain silent if you wish."

"No, no. That's okay. It's just– that was a very good observation you just made. You're right about what you said. Somebody does usually sit there, but he's away for his work. You'll meet him whenever he gets back." Steve lied a little, but it was as planned if Peter ever brought this up.

"Thank you." Was all Spider could say in this situation. He turned his head back to his soup but quickly snapped it up again when something popped into his head. "Ms. Romanoff, I am very sorry I attacked you earlier. In all honesty, I am not sure why I did that. You may punish me as you see fit."

An unidentifiable emotion flickered in Natasha's eyes but left as soon as it came. The other Avengers looked mildly shocked at what Spider said.

"It's okay, Peter. I'm not going to hurt you for that. I forgive you." She smiled softly and took a bite of her last bits of food. The boy was surprised that she forgave him but never objected.

The minutes ticked by and nothing else interesting happened. Dinner was finished and it was Clint and Natasha's turn doing the dishes so they got right to that.

"Peter, can you push your chair out to face me?" Wanda's voice asked from a few feet behind him. Spider obliged and he was soon sitting facing the witch, his IV pop beside him. "I just have to remove this." She said and got to work removing the needle. The girl pulled out a bandaid from her pocket and placed it over the needle-site very lightly.

When that was done, Pietro walked up to him. "I'll take you to your room, okay? Let's see, do you want to take the stairs or the elevator." Peter was confused. Elevator? "It's the metal box that moves up and down. We were in it earlier." _Oh yeah no thanks. Nope. Not that._

"Stairs please." He didn't even care about how he was making a choice for himself, he just did not want to go into the small death-box again.

"Sweet. Let's go."

Then they were off, Pietro leading the younger teen up one of the flights of stairs that clung to the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I just wrote 5485 words about a dinner. Like, what??? How? Why? Idk, I kind of liked this chapter. I just re-watched Ultron and there are lots of scenes of the Avengers Tower in it, so I tried to get it as accurate as possible. Sorry if there are any mistakes. Stay safe my dear readers.
> 
> -Swindle


	17. Ch 16-The kitchen floor is comfortable

**3rd POV**

Pietro led Peter up one of the tallest flights of stairs. It was one that led to the majority of the bedrooms. Spider remained quiet, glancing around as they slowly climbed higher and higher. He could see Natasha and Clint clean while the others went off to the elevator or the cushiony place in the center of the room. This big intricate room fascinated him in so many different ways.

"Cool, isn't it?" Pietro paused momentarily and asked Peter, a smirk on his face as he watched the younger boy look around in amazement.

"Yes, Pietro, it's very cool." He responded with numb astonishment.

"Well, you'll get to see more of it tomorrow. Come on, we're only halfway up." Pietro turned and continued the ascent.

"Yes, Pietro." They resumed their climbing and Peter saw from across the room that the long rounded black window illuminated. There was a lot of tech in there. Tony Stark waved at him from the window and he nodded back.

Eventually, the stairs went up past the ceiling and the room fell out of sight. When they reached the top, Spider was looking into a hallway that turned out of sight a few meters ahead of him. Beside him, another staircase went upwards in the other direction. The hall was littered with neat wooden doors that were painted white and had round silver handles. The doors sat relatively far apart– a few meters. Each door had a personally customizable plaque on it with names. The floor was a simple white and the walls were grey.

"This is the floor you will be staying in. It's also the floor most of us stay in– everyone except Tony, Steve, and Pepper." Pietro began walking down the hall. "These first two doors opposite each other are Clint and Natasha." Clint's plaque had arrows and feathers on it while Nat's was black and shaped like a knife. "The next two are Vision and Bruce." Vision's was red with a grey design and Bruce's was purple with science-y stuff on it. "Rhodey and Sam– who you didn't meet because they live in DC. They just come to visit sometimes." Sam's plaque was shaped like bird wings and Rhodey just had a grey one. "Here are mine and Wanda's." Pietro's was a translucent blue and had a piano keyboard on it. Wanda's was just red. "These last two are for you and our friend who is away for work. The other two rooms at the end are unused." Pietro finished.

The plaque on the door opposite of his didn't have a name. It was just silver with little gold and red highlights. His own plaque didn't have anything on it. No name. Just grey. The last two doors in the hall had nothing on them. At the end of the hall was the elevator. _Agh_.

"We have a very strict rule; Never, under any circumstance, go into this room," he pointed at the friend's room opposite Peter's, "until our friend is back. Understand?" The speedy boy said sternly.

"Yes, Pietro." _Finally, they give me a rule._

"Good. Now, whenever you need us, ask FRIDAY. If we're in our rooms, then feel free to knock on the door. Just not Sam and Rhodey's since they aren't here." He let out a breathy laugh. "I think that's it. Repeat what I said back to me in short form."

"No going into that room ever. If I need anything, I ask FRIDAY. If you're in your room, knock. However, not Sam and Rhodey's because they aren't here." Peter repeated confidently.

"Okay cool. That's it." Pietro smiled at the younger teen. "Time to go in your room".

Meanwhile, Bucky was chilling on his bed, listening to what was happening in the hall between Peter and Pietro. He had finished his food and FRIDAY had not given him the signal that he could leave yet so he opted for lying down. Bucky hated that Peter couldn't come to his room under any circumstance but understood why.

Back with the two teens... Pietro opened the door to Spider's room.

"After you." He said, grinning as Peter walked in, looking around the room with a ridiculous amount of amazement. The speedster continued to speak when the door shut. "Welcome to your room. A quick note about the room; these walls are soundproof. You can hear what happens in the hallway but the people out there can't hear you unless you bang on the door or walls. You also can't hear other people's rooms. Another feature is the ability to lock your door from the inside and not the outside."

Peter was rooted to the ground thanks to how completely flabbergasted he was. Or– _astonished_ might be a better word. The room was big– first of all. The walls were a beautiful shade of royal blue. One wall–the one to the right of him-was a shade of white that had a tint of blue in it and it complemented the room. The floor was a carpet coloured the same shade of white as the wall. For a normal person, it wasn't too soft nor too rough, just a nice in-between– good quality. A few paces to the left was a one meter wall with a door like the one in the room entrance. The farthest wall wasn't even a wall– just a huge wall-to-floor window. Silky blue curtains with white and gold details were drawn back, showing the entirety of the view– the city. In the far right corner, against the window, was a tall lamp. It hung over a dark oak desk and chair.

On the white wall was a large black screen like the one in the common room. Below it was a slim oak shelf, the same shade as the desk. There were thin book-like things on it labeled 'Harry Potter: the complete set', 'Star Wars', and a few others. But it was pretty empty. A few black boxes sat on the shelf along with one white one that had an 'X' on it. In the shelf was a basket of controllers. Closer to the door than the screen was a large dark oak dresser with two lower drawers and one split into two. Even closer to the door were three hooks and a mat. In front of the black screen were two squishy circle-like chairs. They looked kinda like big bags. One was blue, the other a soft shade of golden yellow. Past the short wall, the room opened up more. A large queen bed sat against the wall across the screen. Two dark oak bedside tables sat on either side. A little lamp sat on the left bedside table. The bed had thick heavy blankets– perfect for the cold March weather. The sheets were a white, blue, and gold stripe pattern. Next to the bed, across from the window, was a humongous dark oak bookshelf that covered the entire 2.6x3.5 meter wall. It was very empty though, a few books scattered here and there. Peter recognized some Shakespeare but that's it. The shelves were very large– one had a fake potted plant on it.

He could fit two or three cells in this room.

Pietro smiled at Peter, observing as the younger stumbled around the room, slowly checking everything out.

"This is your room, as I've already told you. Feel free to look around in it and explore. It's night now, so you can go to sleep if you want. There's some clothes in the dresser," He tapped the dresser, "if you want to change for bed."

"Where do I sleep?" Peter asked, unsure if he assumed he should sleep on the floor.

"On the bed." Pietro pointed to the large cushiony bed in the room. He walked over to it and lifted up the blankets. "Under the blankets if you're cold. The pillows are for your head." He went back towards the door. "The light switch is here, but you can ask FRIDAY for the lights. Really– you can ask FRIDAY for anything and she'll help. Any questions?"

"No, Pietro."

"Okay. I'm going to go. Remember, ask FRIDAY for help. Goodnight, Peter." The assassin said goodnight back. Pietro smiled and left, leaving Peter to study the room. He saw three exits– the door, the vent, and the window.

"FRIDAY?" He called out hesitantly.

" _Hello, Peter. How can I help you?_ " She replied, sensing his hesitation.

"What time is it?"

" _It is 7:29 pm_."

"Thank you. Are there– are there rules here?"

" _There is only one rule at the moment; do not go into the room opposite of yours. You could consider asking myself and the others for help to be a rule. Aside from that, no, there are no rules._ " The AI replied politely.

"Thank you."

" _My pleasure_." Was her cheery reply.

He stood there for awhile, not knowing what to do next. "Am I allowed to read the books?"

" _Of course, you have access to everything in this room._ "

"Thank you." Peter took _The Merchant Of Venice_ off the shelf and sat down on the floor beside the window with it. Suddenly, a soft plinking sound drifted around the room. Music. Spider lifted his head.

" _I thought you might enjoy some music._ "

"Oh, thank you very much." He replied, shocked by her thoughtfulness.

" _You're welcome_."

Peter read for awhile, glancing at the beautiful view every few pages. Eventually, he put the book down and just gazed in wonder at the skyscrapers. There were so many buildings. And even more lights. They went on forever. Occasionally, some would dim and others would light up. Little blinking lights passed overhead once in awhile. He could see tiny things below him–cars (but he didn't know)–with shiny lights came out of the front of them. They would speed down on the ground in neat lines, sometimes turning or switching lines. Peter could just barely spot people if he looked hard enough. The sight was beautiful. Something Spider never thought he'd see.

"Hey FRIDAY, what time is it?" He asked FRIDAY. Even though he didn't really have a concept of time thanks to growing up with no windows and rarely seeing the outside world. All he knew was that there are two of each number– one for the morning and one for the evening. The higher the number, the later it is. So 1:00 in the morning is early but 11:00 is later. 2:00 in the afternoon is early, but 10:00 is late. He also knew that nights were considered more between 5:00 pm and 7:00 am. So 10:00 at night is actually early-ish but 3:00 could be super late. Thankfully, if he needed, he could read a clock too (there wasn't one in the room sadly).

" _It is 9:36 pm_."

"Thank you." So it's a little late?

" _You're welcome_."

He sighed in content, closing his eyes, and rested his head against the bedside table he was leaning on.

That happiness didn't last too long. He had to go to the bathroom. The assassin hadn't gone that day yet and with all the food he ate, he really had to go. So, he heaved himself up and went towards the bedroom door. A rule at the base was that if you needed to go to the bathroom, knock on the cell door. There's always a few guards in the halls so they'll hear. However, the limit is going twice a day.

Peter knocked on the door, lightly at first. No answer. He knocked a bit louder. No answer. He tried a bit louder. Somebody knocked back. Odd.

"Come in." He said and took a few steps back.

Vision phased through the door, surprising the boy a little.

"Hello, Mr. Vision." Peter greeted, a bit sheepish for some reason.

"Good evening, Mr. Parker." He responded, matching the formality. "Is there a reason why you knocked on your own door?" His head tilted a little in confusion.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"I apologize, but I'm confused. Why did you knock on your door to go to the bathroom?"

"Because it's a rule. If I have to go to the bathroom, I'm supposed to knock on the door."

There was an unidentifiable look in the AI's eyes. "Excuse me, I'll be back in a moment." Vision phased out of the room. A minute went by and the door opened again. This time, it was Pietro followed loosely by the AI.

"Hey Peter, Vis said that you have a problem with something?" Pietro noted in a questioning tone of voice. Vision looked at the two briefly and then left when he felt satisfied with what he'd done to help.

Suddenly, Peter felt embarrassed. _This is stupid_. "I, uh.. I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh that's what I was forgetting." Pietro's face lit up and he walked into the room towards the door on the small wall. "This is a bathroom."

Peter looked confused.

"Look," the speedy boy opened the door, revealing a beautiful bathroom, "a bathroom. You don't have to ask to go. There's one in each room. They all have showers, toilets, and sinks. You're allowed to use it whenever you want." He smiled.

"Oh. Thank you." Peter's face flushed.

"No problem. Is there anything else?"

"No, Pietro. Thank you."

The older teen smiled and left, going back downstairs. He chuckled a little to himself the whole way. Meanwhile, Peter looked around at the nice bathroom. It was simple. White tiles and white walls. To the right of the door was a white sink in a dark brown counter– the surface had a lot if room. There were cupboards in the counter along with a mirror above the sink, a cupboard hidden behind it. Beside the sink was a toilet. Beyond that was a shower/bath, a shelf/hangar with two towels, and a grey rug.

The young assassin did his business and went back inside the bedroom. _They said I'm allowed to change.._. He remembered, opening the dresser drawers. It was mostly empty– just a little bit of everything. All the clothes were plain because the Avengers didn't know what he liked. Some things were old clothes the others didn't want. Some were new things Rhodey went out and bought for him the day after he arrived– two days ago.

He chose a pair of light grey sweats– one of the only familiar things in there. Peter kept the socks because they were nice and warm. And he kept the long-sleeve, tucking it into his sweats like he always does. Satisfied with the clothes, he crawled into the bed, tired, full of food, and ready to sleep.

"FRIDAY, can you turn the lights off? And maybe block out the lights from the window, too."

" _Sure thing, Peter_." The lights turned off and the curtains slid together, leaving him in darkness.

"Thank you." He mumbled out, feeling very tired. There was no reply but he didn't care.

Trying to sleep wasn't as easy as normal. The bed was too soft and it sunk under his weight too much. The pillows felt like they were elevating his head too much. And the blankets were too heavy. He felt like they were trapping him. Sure, they were warm, but it was at the cost of him feeling like he was suffocating. Changing positions didn't do anything to help. So he got out from under the covers and just lay on top of them, staring up at the ceiling. Spider was now very much awake thanks to him being uncomfortable. Now, the problem was the darkness _and_ the softness of the bed. There's always a dim light when he slept, so this felt... Unnatural and weird, even if he could partially see in the dark.

After a long time of hating the bed, Peter furrowed his brow in frustration. It never took him this long to fall asleep.

"FRIDAY, what time is it?"

" _It is 10:11pm_." If an AI could laugh, FRIDAY would be. She could sense his restlessness and frustration.

"Thank you." He sighed out.

A few more minutes went by and that was all he could take. Spider heaved himself up and out of him bed, scanning the room with his supreme vision. _A-ha! The weird chairs in the middle of the room. I'll try those_. He plunked himself down on a beanbag chair. As soon as he did, a look of–what could be borderline classified as–disgust washed over his face. _Nope, nope, nope. Not this. Too squishy_. Peter stood up again and headed for his desk this time. When he sat down, it wasn't so bad. But as time went on, his opinion on it decreased. The chair was nice, but he couldn't curl up in a ball on it. He couldn't lie down either. Resting his head on the desk made his back hurt and arms tire after awhile. Spider couldn't get comfortable here either.

There's one more option; the floor.

He sunk to the floor, desperate to get comfortable enough to sleep. The first thing he tried was curling up in a ball against the wall. Normally, it'd work, but nope, not this time. He sat criss-cross– nope. Normal sitting– no. He tried many positions, both sitting up and lying down. But nothing worked. Peter Parker just couldn't sleep. The problem(s)? The carpet and the darkness. The darkness was already an established problem but the carpet... It was annoying. Peter almost loathed the softness and squishiness the carpet brought. It even sunk a little under his weight like the bed– not nearly as badly though. He hated how the soft tufts of whatever-it-was-made-of tickled his body. Peter isn't a picky person at all. However, he's never experienced this kind of softness before, and he hated it.

The boy would give anything to be sleeping on his dirty, hard, semi-cold cell floor with his back pressed against the impenetrable brick walls. If only...

"FRIDAY, what time is it?" He yawned, a dangerous idea popping into his head.

" _It is 11:53pm_." She replied dutifully. " _Is there a problem, Mr. Parker? You seem to be uncomfortable_."

Instead of answering, Peter chose to ask what might be a risky question. "Is there anyone awake?"

" _Mr. Stark is awake in his lab, Dr. Banner is meditating, and Mrs. Romanoff is reading. Vision does not sleep due to him being an AI. Everyone else is asleep._ " She responded.

 _Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this? Why do I even feel like this? I'm going to be killed. This is a bad decision, Peter. You shouldn't be–_ "Can you open the door?"

" _I am not sure that is a good idea_."

"Please? I have an idea of how to sleep but I need you to open the door." He pleaded, wanting to try his idea to help him sleep.

A long pause of silence, " _Very well. If anyone asks, I had no part in your little adventure._ " She finally gave in. Peter could almost imagine her smiling and rolling her eyes.

"Thank you so much." The door opened silently, revealing the dark hallway. Peter snuck out and the door closed automatically behind him. _Cool_.

The boy had a very good sense of direction and remembered where he was trying to go. He silently padded down the hall, grateful for the socks that muffled his footsteps. His ears stayed sharp, listening for any movement outside his own. Spider wished he could go along the ceiling since it would be a lot easier to hide up there. However, he was banned from that. Memories of the punishments he'd get flashed in his brain, causing him to shiver.

When he got to the stairs, he internally did a victory dance. There was no noise or signal that someone was near him. Peter tip-toed down the stairs. When it opened up to the window and the large room where he ate, light hit him. Lights from outside shone brightly along with the dim light of the lab Tony was in. Hiding in shadows weren't an option, so he crouched and descended as fast and silent as possible. Spider kept his eyes on the hunched-over figure of Mr. Stark as he made his was down. _Why am I doing this? This is such a stupid idea. I'll be punished so badly for this._ But Peter couldn't find the strength to stop himself. There was a weird rush of adrenaline that he's never experienced before and it exhilarated him.

He finally got to the floor and felt very proud of himself. The abundance of light helped him navigate across the room towards the cupboard-place. When he made it there, Peter paused. No noise. Thank goodness– nobody had seen or heard him yet. He stood inside the open-but-closed-off room, amoung the cupboards. Coldness of the marble floor seeped into his socks and Peter sighed with relief. This was what he wanted. The teen sat down in the corner with his back against a cupboard with a sink in it and his left side against a plain cupboard. A beam of light from outside sat just above his head, sending his little corner into a faint glow.

Now _this_ is what he's used to. The cold floor, hard walls, and dim light. Finally happy and comfortable, Peter sunk into a content sleep, unaware of who would find him in the morning.


	18. Ch 17-Pepper has been attacked

**3rd POV**

Peter was having the best sleep he's had in a _long_ time. He felt sort of safe, comfortable, and full of amazing food. There were no nightmares or horrifying memories. Just a peaceful abyss.

Meanwhile, Steve was descending one of the many flights of stairs in the early morning hours. It was 5:00 am– his usual wake-up time. Yawning, he made his way over to the kitchen, still semi-running on autopilot. Normally, he's a morning person, but with the events of the past few days, sleep has been harder to come by. When he turned into the kitchen, he almost didn't see the figure curled up in the shadows. Steve thought it was just his eyes deceiving him thanks to his exhaustion. He began walking to the sink in search of water for his coffee. But that's when he realized that he wasn't imagining it– there was indeed somebody in the corner.

The blond turned his gaze down to the figure and saw that it was Peter. _Peter? What's he doing here? And why is he sleeping in the kitchen?_ Steve questioned. Forgetting his quest for water, the war veteran just numbly stared at the young assassin, not sure what to do. He must say, the boy looked so much younger in his sleep. Not to mention more vulnerable and relaxed. His curls flopped over his eyes and his chin was pressed into his arms, which were placed on his tucked knees.

Steve snapped his head up when his enhanced hearing picked up someone's soft hum make its way across the room. Even without seeing them, Steve knew it was Bucky. The ex-assassin always hummed as to not scare anyone by his silent approach. When Bucky came closer, the blond placed a finger on his own lips; the universal sign to be quiet. The brunette stopped but cocked his head in confusion. Rogers pointed to the corner, so he made his way around the counter.

What he saw was not exactly what he expected– but he wasn't complaining in the slightest. Peter sat curled up on the floor in the corner, his back to the sink and left side against a counter. The sleeping position was the same as Bucky could remember. Spider was sleeping soundly, his breaths even and long. He looked young and gentle in the soft morning glow that slowly crept onto his face. All signs of deadliness and trauma escaped his body. Bucky smiled softly at the sight.

"Let's let him sleep." Steve whispered and Bucky nodded back.

Carefully, the two maneuvered around the kitchen, getting stuff ready for their small pre-run snack. They were careful and avoided Peter– which was easy because there wasn't anything important in his area and they had multiple sinks. Steve made some coffee–partially for Tony and Clint when they wake up–while Bucky cut up fruit. Both of them began eating their fruit and dinking their coffee at the breakfast bar in silence. Bucky kept looking at Peter, taking in as much of the boy's features as possible before having to leave again.

Natasha walked towards the kitchen, nodding in greeting at the two super soldiers as she passed. Steve opened his mouth to say something but before anything came out, she saw Peter in the corner. The female assassin did a once-over of the boy, smiling a little at his soft neutral appearance.

"Cute." She whispered to no one in particular and moved on to grab a glass of cran-apple juice. Her soft side was already showing– this kid had an effect on her.

Bucky hummed at her comment absentmindedly as he ate his plums. The redhead glanced up at him, her lips quirking in a smile, and then began slicing up apples. Comfortable silence dawned upon the three of them, sunlight illuminating the kitchen with a stark yellow-orange glow. Just as Natasha finished cutting her sour apples, the two soldiers were nearly done their food. Sliding into the breakfast bar stool beside Bucky, Steve got up to put his plate and mug in the dishwasher, taking Bucky's too.

"How are you?" Natasha asked Bucky, a clear meaning behind her words.

"I'm okay. It's weird. Him being right there but I can't tell him a story or anything. I just want to say hello or somethin'. But I can wait, 'nother couple months won't kill me." He sighed, looking at Peter's thin, curled-up figure.

Instead of a response, Romanoff offered a small smile and a hum of reassurance. Just as Steve began taking leftover smoothie out of the fridge, Bucky heard a small click-clacking. His head snapped up, staring at the corner that leads to the elevator. Steve noticed it too because he froze as well, leaving Natasha confused but curious. Thanks to their supreme hearing, the two men could tell whatever it was wasn't on this floor yet, but rather, paused in the elevator. Whatever it was got to their floor and began nearing them, causing the trio to keep their guard up. When the noise was rounding the corner, they saw who it was and immediately relaxed.

"Pepper, what are you doing awake so early?" Natasha asked in a whisper.

"I have a meeting out of town. I have to leave by 6:00am." Pepper responded, mirroring the whispering. "Why are we whispering?" She asked as she walked towards the breakfast bar, her heels click-clacking loudly.

Steve stepped aside, his hand motioning to the corner, to reveal Peter.

"Oh." The CEO smiled, recognizing the teen from the previous night. "This is Peter, right? The boy from last night?" Her curiosity drew her to the small figure. She crouched down and neared him to get a better look.

That was her biggest mistake.

While all this was happening, Peter's dreamless sleep was interrupted by a noise he knew all too well. Click Clack, Click Clack. It echoed in his head until an image formed– a dream. _He was standing in his cell, the click-clacking of shoes nearing, signaling that he'd be taken somewhere. His head pounded, the other side of him trying to take over. The door swung open and away he was dragged, just like predicted. The Click Clacks never ceased, even when he was standing still in the training room._

_"Choke them." A voice echoed, followed by the hollow, rhythmic click-clacking._

_Suddenly, someone stood in front of him. He didn't notice them before. They had no face. Just blankness. Peter's inhumane side promptly won the battle in his mind and he was no longer in control. Obediently, his hand reached out and grasped their neck, constricting slowly as to not kill them immediately. He thought he was doing good. That is, until he heard his real name._

"Peter. Peter, stop it now." The familiar female voice called.

 _Peter? That's me, right? No, I'm not Peter. I'm PTR Arachnid 24601. Or am I Peter? That's the name I was given, right?_ His head pounded, trying to make sense of what was happening and what side he was on right now.

"Peter! Stop!" A stern male voice sounded like it was panicking.

He heard someone choking and coughing. The boy felt hands grasp his arm, desperately tugging at them. Were they trying to pull his arm away? "P-Pe'er. S-s-stop. Please." They wheezed out, gagging at the end.

Just like that, the assassin realized that he wasn't in his training room, or asleep anymore for that matter. He blinked a few times in confusion. This was the cupboard-place he had fallen asleep in last night. Shit. He's going to die for this. Instead of worrying about punishments, his gaze focused on his hand, which was wrapped tightly around a lady's now-reddish-blue neck. _This is the lady from last night. Ms. Potts, I think. Oh no, no, no_. Peter panicked a little. Unfortunately, his inhumane side had the wheel right now and his sane side was stuck watching the chaos unfold from the backseat.

The teen tried to look around him at the people in the room, but he wasn't puppeteering at the moment. So, he was stuck looking at Ms. Potts and Mr. Rogers with a glimpse of a third party out of the corner of his eye. Despite his efforts, he couldn't gain control enough to loosen his hand and drop the CEO.

"Peter?" Mr. Rogers asked, unsure of what to say.

Winter Spider didn't respond.

"Who are we speaking to?" Ms. Romanoff came fully into sight, standing in a defensive position and face void of emotions.

"The Winter Spider." His other side growled out, gaze still locked coldly on Potts' slowly reddening eyes.

Natasha and Steve shared a conversation with their eyes, seeming to know what each other was saying. After a long moment, the super soldier had a questioning look in his eyes– hesitation, which was responded by a confident nod. Sighing, Captain faced Spider, standing infinitely straighter and more refined– dominating and soldier-like.

"Winter Spider, I am ordering you to _gently_ release Pepper Potts." He commanded with such a chilling amount of authority and confidence that Peter couldn't help but obey. The curly-haired teen was reminded of the commanders back in the base who spoke just like that and he felt a shiver go up his spine.

As this happened, Bucky stood just around the corner, listening to what was going on. The man had to ignore every urge to just run out and say _something_ to his friend.

Spider gently put down the CEO, releasing her from his iron grip. Her hands shot up to her neck, rubbing it in an attempt to take the pain away. Gasps and loud heavy breaths filled the room, hungry and desperate for air. Peter got into a fighting stance, his mind unsure of who to trust or what to do/how to act. He watched from the corner of his eye as Pepper was helped up by Natasha and sat down on the cushion-seats in the centre of the large attached room.

"Why did you attack her?" Steve asked.

"I believed I was still in my dream, sir." He answered in all honesty.

"What was your dream about?"

"I was training. The Men told me to choke them so I did. I apologize for what I have done, sir. Please punish me for my mistake."

Steve stared at him in silence, wondering what to do with the poor kid.

Something flickered in Peter's mind. A memory– no, that's not right. A _story_. About a guy named Steve and his friend– who was his friend? They used to go to an apple orchid. Steve got his foot stuck in a chair. _Why do I know this? Where did I learn this?_ A lightbulb of sorts lit up in Spider's head. Steve was the guy in front of him. Mr. Rogers. Steve Rogers.

He regained control of his body but Peter was confused. He wasn't himself, nor his inhumane side. The urge to fight mercilessly and obey every single command without hesitation was ebbing away. A muddle of muddy memories– no, _stories_ replaced it. He felt like a mix between his two sides. The boy unknowingly relaxed his stance, lowering his fists by a few inches, placing his feet closer together, and lifting his head a bit higher.

Steve looked a little surprised. The soldier, to say the least, wasn't sure what was happening. Spider had all of a sudden relaxed but he looked terribly confused. There was no longer a red, murderous look in his eyes. Instead, they were a soft honey-brown shade that was currently squinting slightly at the older soldier.

"...Steve?" He asked in a hoarse tone, a flicker of knowing and familiarity in his golden eyes.

"Who am I speaking to?" The blond took a cautious step forward.

"I– I'm not sure. I think it's Peter." The boy a step back into the counter.

"You think?"

"I don't know." He paused in a moment of thought, then his lips twitched–the closest thing to a smile they'd ever gotten, "You used to go to an apple orchid every Saturday. You ate tuna sandwiches there with you friend." Peter said everything slowly, still trying to process the stories.

"How do you know that?" Steve took another shaky step, his hands up to show that he meant no harm. The part of his life Peter just spoke about was surprisingly not in any of the books or museums.

"I don't know. I just– _do_. I think I was told?" Spider's lips pursed into a frustrated line on his face. His eyes grew comically wide and his expression turned guilty. Crumpling to the floor, Peter clutched his head and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Muffled screams of agony rippled through the tense silence. Natasha came running along with Pepper. Just as Steve began to approach the boy, the redhead shot her arm out to stop him.

Multiple pairs of footsteps thudded down the stairs and across the room. Clint and the twins neared the group, wide-eyed and semi-panicking. Natasha signed something at the archer quickly and he nodded, disappearing around the corner.

"You three, stay back. Wanda, help." Romanoff directed Pepper, Pietro, and Steve backwards while Wanda carefully neared the shuddering boy.

"Peter, try to fight it, okay? You have to fight the pain. Don't let it control you." She said, slowly enveloping the boy's head in her magic as an attempt to calm him. It worked, thankfully, and he relaxed, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

The boy snapped into a more 'acceptable' position– his back straight, arms folded behind his back, legs shoulder-width apart, and head looking forward.

"Peter?" Wanda prompted cautiously, stepping back.

No response.

"Winter Spider?" Steve tried.

"Ready to comply." The brunette responded automatically. He turned to Steve, "I apologize, sir, I do not know what just came over me." And then to Pepper, "I apologize for choking you earlier. I believed I was still dreaming and did not know I was hurting you."

"That's okay. Don't worry about." Potts responded, her breath still a little shaky.

"Apology accepted." Steve responded.

The rest of the morning went fine. Steve and Bucky went on their run, then went to the library. Pepper left for her meeting and Clint went back to bed until 11:00am. Tony and Bruce were probably in their labs. Vision was who-knows-where and Natasha went... Somewhere. Pietro and Wanda stayed and made Peter breakfast– an omelette, which he loved.

Pietro took him back to his room to let him shower, get changed, and relax for a bit. After that, the twins decided that they might as well start to educate Peter about things in a kitchen/foods. They brought him to the kitchen and told him about different utensils, tools, and machines along food groups and meals. Pietro taught him how to cut different vegetables/fruits and Wanda walked him through how make a sandwich for lunch.

While all this educational jazz was happening, Natasha was doing some important research.


	19. Ch 18-A box full of childhood

**3rd POV**

Natasha hopped onto her motorcycle and sped off down the street, a Queens address punched into her GPS. She was out just after the morning rush, so traffic wasn't as bad as it could be. After nearly thirty minutes of driving, the redhead found herself in a quiet neighbourhood lined with old–but large–early 20th century homes.

The neighbourhood was so calm and... _domestic_ that Natasha didn't feel like she was in New York anymore. She walked up the street slowly, enjoying the sounds of birds chirping and kids playing outside a few houses over. Sometimes, she still fantasizes about having a life like this.

Briefly checking the address again, she stopped at a white picket fence in front of a beautiful white Victorian-era house. Compared to the other homes on the street, it was small, surrounded by maple trees, and had a large front yard. But something about the house made a shiver crawl up her spine. An old, worn tire-swing hung from a tree on the left. The front garden was untouched, weeds sprouting everywhere. Paint was chipping and some of the roof tiles were missing. On the right, vines weaved their way up the porch and on the side of the house. There were no cars in the driveway or signs of life in the house. It just sat there on that lawn, unusually quiet.

 _This is it_. Natasha thought. _This is the house Peter spent the first two years of his life in._

Even though there weren't any signs of life, the redhead didn't think she should go onto the property. So, she stood at the gate and just basked in the rare sunshine of the day as she observed the house.

"Ms. Romanoff, I can't imagine that you came here just to look at old houses. So, why are you here? Hm?" A sweet but delicate voice behind her said, startling the assassin a bit. Nobody snuck up on Natasha Romanoff.

She slowly turned around–her guard up–to see a lady standing a few feet behind her. The lady looked to be in her late fifties and she was leaning on a cane to support her. Grey and brown hair was tied back in a neat bun and her green eyes twinkled with familiarity and wistful sorrow.

"Good afternoon ma'am. Do I know you?" Natasha asked carefully, relaxing at the sight of the lady. The old woman just smiled and hobbled forward to stand beside her.

Instead of answering the question, the lady responded with, "So, are you going to tell me why you're here of all places? I can only assume you know something about this house." Her smile deepened but so did the sadness in her eyes.

"This is where Peter used to live, isn't it?" The redhead dragged her gaze from the old lady and turned it back to the house.

"So you are here about Peter." It came out as a statement. "Yes, he did use to live here. But that was many years ago." A long sigh escaped the older's lips.

Comfortable silence passed of them taking in the calming but eerie sight of the house.

"You found him, didn't you?"

Romanoff looked beside her and met the senior's eyes for a brief moment before dragging them back to the property.

"Yes, we did."

"How is he?"

"We're not sure yet. It's only been a few days. But he seems very damaged. He's timid and unsure of himself... unstable. He'll get better in time."

The lady shifted where she stood.

"I used to babysit him."

That caught Natasha's attention. They turned to face each other.

"It's true. I knew his parents. I used to be a SHIELD agent, believe it or not. His mother–Mary–was in the Investigation Department like me. She was my apprentice when she first started out. Such a promising student too. When I found out they had a kid, I was so happy for them. They even made me his godmother. Peter was smart, even at such a young age. Babysitting him was probably the highlight of my week. And then all that happened," she motioned vaguely to the house and the air in general, "and I never saw him, his parents, or his aunt and uncle again. I never got to say goodbye." She smiled sadly and placed a hand on redhead's shoulder, "Such a cliché concept– never saying goodbye. But that's what happens."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know about that." Natasha said genuinely, a soft gaze filling her features.

"Don't worry dear, you had no control over it. Besides, you weren't even a SHIELD agent yet at that time." The lady patted the younger's shoulder, sighed, and continued, "You know, I never thought Peter was dead. SHIELD officially pronounced him dead because he had been missing for so long, but I knew he was alive somewhere."

"What really happened that night?" The assassin queried after a miserable pause.

"Ah well, Mary and Richard had to go on a 'business trip'– as they called it. Really, it was because they were in danger thanks to Richard's research. Peter was sent to his aunt and uncle's house where he stayed for only a day before they found out about his parents death. Mary and Richard died in a plane crash caused by HYDRA. That very same day, Ben and May were murdered in their house and Peter was never found. All we found out was that Ben and May were shot to death and their house burned to–supposedly–hide the evidence. Not like that works anyway." The lady explained the story, sadness evident in her bright green eyes. "That was the very last case I ever took part in. Well– before I had an accident resulting in my early retirement. I'm still ashamed that we never found Peter. But, I came to terms with the truth and accepted that I may never see him again. Now, I'm not so sure anymore." She laughed.

Natasha didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry." It was a weak thing to say, but at times like these, it's the only thing to say.

The old lady only smiled– and not the bitter kind, the kind that shows healing over a loss. "This house never sold. It's been nearly untouched for fifteen years. Bits of furniture still remain. Locals say it's haunted by Mary and Richard themselves– desperate to see their son again. I've seen teens go in one night and come out pale-faced within the next few hours. I even saw two Ghost hunters go in a year or two back. They managed to stay the night and one of them came out looking absolutely peachy. The other, not so much. Of course, I don't believe in that stuff, but who knows?" She mused. "Want to go inside?"

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea." The green-eyed, red-haired woman responded. She felt like she was intruding on something private.

"Nonsense." Before Natasha could object, the gate was open and they were walking up the stone steps to the porch.

The older lady turned the knob and pushed the stiff door open with a grunt. As the two girls walked through the old halls, Romanoff couldn't help but feel even more terrible. Even with the coats of dust and bits of graffiti here and there, she could see the domesticity of the place. She could practically imagine a small Peter running through these halls, playing with Legos and toy airplanes. Her heart wrenched a little. They exited the house twenty minutes later.

"I have one more thing to show you." The lady motioned for the younger to follow.

Nat walked slowly beside the hobbling lady that was currently leading her in the direction she parked her motorcycle. They went past it, instead, she was led to the house on the corner– another Victorian-era house but bigger and light blue-grey. The lady took her inside, walking through the house until a door was pushed open to reveal a small study. Natasha stood awkwardly at the door as the senior shuffled around, eventually heaving a huge box out from underneath the desk. It was set on the table with a large _thud_ – obviously quite heavy.

"Come here." Curious as to what it was, Natasha did not hesitating in joining the lady beside the box.

After popping the lid off with difficulty, Nat saw–with a mix of amazement and bittersweet sadness–it's interesting contents. Inside were various picture frames, photo albums, books, and a smaller box underneath. Everything was dusty after not being touched for thirteen years. The assassin stared wondrously at it all. She couldn't see past the top picture–one of May and Richard laughing together on their front porch–and an album to the underneath stuff. Subconsciously, her hand reached out to grab the stuff, but she stopped herself just before latching onto the frame.

"Go on." An encouraging nudge to her side and a sly grin permitted her to resume.

Natasha took out the stack of picture frames first, blowing the layers of dust off. A few were of just Mary and Richard. Others had a baby Peter playing with toys, colouring messily, or napping. Some had just May and Ben. One had Mary, Richard, Ben, Mary, the lady, and Peter together, sitting outside for what looks like Peter's first birthday. The old lady was in a few of the other ones. She moved onto the two albums, flipping through them quickly. The first was of Mary, and Richard–along with some Ben, May, and the old lady (looking young)–pre-Peter. As for the second, it was in the two years Peter lived with them. Next were books. Half were simple children books– picture books you'd read to one and two year-olds. The other half was a mixture of novels, information books, and classic literature– most likely what Peter's parents read. Lastly was the box. Natasha got almost a chill up her spine when reaching for it. This felt like the most invasive thing out of all of them for some reason.

Old lady sensed her hesitation and nudged her again, smiling softly. Taking a deep breath, Romanoff slid the lid off. But what was inside was not something that would make one nervous. It was simply a box full of Peter's old toys. Five stuffed Teddy's were there in all shapes, sizes, and colours– some looking worn, others new. A large beige bunny probably the size of a newborn was there, one ear hanging limply by the strings. A silky brown bow was tied around its neck and it had a light pink stain on its stomach. On its foot read 'To Peter, From Auntie May and Uncle Ben'. Nat recognized a little stuffed Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore in mint condition. Other random plushies were in there but they didn't look as worn out or loved. Some toy cars and planes along with plastic Dino's and animals lay underneath the stuffies. The last item in there was a grey dog plushie that looked hand-made– sewn together and stuffed with care. It had navy blue button eyes and a black button nose. By the looks of it, it was older that just fifteen years.

"This is Peter's stuff?" It was obvious, but she had to confirm. The girl tucked everything back into the box just as it had been before.

"Yes, that's all the stuff I could get my hands on. I've been keeping this stuff here for thirteen years, hoping that Peter would be back. I never looked at it because it just didn't feel right without them. Now that he's found, take it." The lady confessed.

"What? I- I couldn't do that. This is all you have left of the Parker's." Natasha's head whipped up and she took a step back.

"Not all– Peter's alive and that's all that matters. I have copies of the pictures too. So take it. It is Peter's after all. And I'm sure he'd like it– something of his family to think of them by. Besides, I have no need for it here, it'll only gather dust for another thirteen years." She pushed the box towards the assassin. Nat opened her mouth to reply but was met by a stern and unwavering glare.

"Thank you." A smile crept onto her lips.

The two made their way outside and back to Nat's motorcycle. After the box was firmly strapped on, they said their goodbyes.

"When Peter gets better, give me a call. I'd like to know how he's doing." The lady pulled out a business card and handed it to Natasha.

"Of course I will. And thank you again– for all of this." She gestured to the box and the houses. The lady smiled and walked off, leaving Nat to look at the card.

_Matthews, Dorothy Maya_

_Psychologist of 9 years, SHIELD agent of 22 years_

_Address: ****** Number: ***-***-**** Email: *******_

Romanoff smiled, pocketed the card, and drove off to her next destination.

Natasha spent an hour at the new SHIELD headquarters. The redhead talked to Agent Hill and a few different departments about the Winter Spider. She took some notes, soaked up info, and got out of there. In the end, she was satisfied with her work and drove the one-hour ride home in the late afternoon sun.

Meanwhile, Peter was having a pretty okay day. He only slipped into his inhumane side once– not counting the Pepper fiasco. Wanda and Pietro taught him all about foods, utensils, kitchen tools, and how to make a sandwich. His morning went fine and so did his afternoon. The twins had to go to work–Pietro at a music store and Wanda at a bookstore–so Peter remained in his room. He didn't have a problem with that, of course. It was nice to just sit in silence after all that happened earlier.

To be honest, he was extremely surprised at how _nice_ everyone was. They never punished him or yelled at him if he did anything wrong. He was allowed to keep his head up when walking– which he was struggling with. They always said 'hello' and smiled as they passed. The twins taught him stuff and gave him real food. He hadn't been told to kill anyone yet or do any 'schooling'. Peter was having a hard time believing all this wasn't just a stupid dream. Then again, he couldn't fabricate something he's never experienced before.

His Spider Sense still tingled but not as much as usual. You see, it's a danger warning. But it also tingles when he doesn't fully trust people– just warning him that they're there. Back at the HYDRA base, it never stopped tingling. Ever. He would feel the constant tingle and it turned into pins and needles whenever he was with one of the Men. Here, with these people, it was dull and soft. More like someone ghosting their hand over the back of his neck. It only increased when people got within touching range of him.

So now, he sat curled up on the floor of his room, just taking in everything that had happened that day.

The Avengers–minus Pietro, Wanda, Sam, Rhodey, and Natasha–were chilling in the common room. Steve and Bucky had returned when Pietro gave them the call that Peter was in his room. Tony was dragged out of his lab by Steve, insisting that he should eat. Clint was draped across the couch playing Wii Sports Resort by himself. Vision sat near him, observing the game he was playing. Bucky and Steve busied themselves by making sandwiches for everyone. Tony sat in a chair, staring off into space with an exhausted expression. Bruce just stood by the counter drinking coffee and attempting to exist properly.

Natasha marched into the room and dropped the box in front of Tony on the table with an echoing _thud_.

"Jesus Christ that's heavy." She muttered and rubbed her back.

"And where were you?" Tony asked, alarmed by the noise.

"I was being helpful and doing research on our маленький паук." Nat responded. They all looked to Bucky for the translation.

"Little Spider." He said. They nodded in understanding.

Clint walked up to the table and looked at the box, "What's inside?"

"Yeah don't thank me." She said under her breath so nobody heard. "Childhood." The assassin explained at a normal volume.

"Childhood?" Steve echoed beside her, forgetting about the sandwiches.

"That's what I said." Natasha popped the lid off. "Peter's childhood."

They all stared at the contents in awe. Nat began to take the stuff out.

"Where did you find this?" Bucky asked, looking at a picture of a nearly two year old Peter playing with a Dino action figure.

"I met an old lady in the right place at the right time." She shrugged and took out the smaller box.

"What's in that one?" Steve asked and Nat handed it to him saying, "See for yourself."

The blond super soldier opened it and took out the dog stuffie with a mixture of sadness and amazement. Bruce took out the Eeyore and smiled at it, thinking of Peter playing with these.

"You said you met an old lady in the right place at the right time?" Tony asked, putting the album back on the table. Natasha nodded and hummed. "Who was the lady?"

"Dorothy Matthews." She pulled out the business card and handed it to the billionaire.

"' _SHIELD agent of 22 years_ '." He read and met Nat's green gaze, "She worked in SHIELD?"

"Apparently. Before an accident made her retire early. She was Mary Parker's mentor in the Investigation Department. And Peter's godmother." Nat grabbed the photo of Peter's birthday and pointed to the lady. The heads in the room snapped up. "I went to visit the house and hoped I would find some things. I guess I got lucky because she approached me and told me a few things. She also gave me the box in hopes Peter would get it."

The room went silent except for the noises of picture frames, albums, and toys being handled.

"So she knows he's still alive?" Clint asked.

Natasha nodded silently and began explaining the whole encounter to the others. Starting from when the lady first approached her and ending with her saying goodbye.

"I did some more research at SHIELD HQ." Romanoff continued, grabbing a glass of water. "Agent Hill told me some things about the Winter Spider."

"Oh?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"He's been on their radar for around six years now. They can't track him down but they have managed to get some info on him." The looks she got urged her to continue. "Thanks to his similarity with the Winter Soldier, he's been affectionately dubbed the 'Winter Spider'. But Hill says he's... Different than other HYDRA assassins. His missions aren't like normal. HYDRA sells the Winter Spider out to companies who need his... Assistance. Basically, companies who have beef with other companies will borrow the Spider for a large amount of money and the Spider does whatever they ask him to. Keep in mind, these businesses are things like drug rings, trafficking rings, weapons manufacturers, etc." She added and continued after a pause. "He- he does a specific job."

"What kind of job?" Steve questioned.

"Massacres." Was the only word that escaped her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Clint asked slowly, afraid of her answer even though he knew it.

"That's Peter's specialty. Massacres, slaughter, genocide– whatever you want to call it. Companies will borrow him and he'll kill fifty guys in five minutes for them. That's what he does. Total annihilation. They suspect he does other work too, but there's no evidence. Most of these businesses have been ones that SHIELD's been tracking for a long time in hopes to take down. But Spider takes them out with the snap of his fingers. Not many people know about him. Just the higher-ups in SHIELD. Hill says there's been videos of victims of the attacks trying to tell the camera the location and what's happening. But it always cuts out."

"Jesus Christ." Tony mutters. "Fury knew what we were doing when we went to find him?"

"I guess so. I don't know why he didn't stop us." She shrugged and continued.

"There's one more thing." Nat sighs, "All the calls have been traced back to remote places. Places in the middle of nowhere all over the world. SHIELD will arrive at the places and it's just a bloodbath. Sometimes it's abandoned buildings, sometimes it's in nature. No agent has seen him in person– at least that's what Hill tells me. Most agents who know about him are convinced it's multiple people, not just one kid."

Clint sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking at a photo of innocent Peter building a Lego tower. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"


	20. Ch 19-The Lion King

**3rd POV**

Peter sat on the floor of his room beside the window, engrossed in a copy of _The Merchant of Venice_. He was oblivious of the box lying on the kitchen table downstairs, containing his early years. A strong smell wafted up to his room, making his stomach growl a little. Whatever it was, it smelled a little bit like the soup yesterday. It was earthy yet also... rich like the omelette he ate earlier. Perhaps cheese? Peter almost drooled over how amazing it was– momentarily forgetting the book.

A light knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"May I come in?" A voice sounding like Ms. Romanoff asked.

"Yes ma'am." He responded, quickly sitting up straight.

Natasha carefully opened the door and walked in with a tray balanced in one hand. On the tray were two bowls with different amounts of food. The food was orange-beige coloured with small half-circles. It was steaming and the orange-beige stuff was kind of stringy. Romanoff set the tray down on the desk.

"We're going to eat dinner in here." She announced, taking the bowls and sitting next to Peter on the ground. Passing him his bowl, she informed him, "It's Macaroni and Cheese. But careful, it's hot. Let it cool off and then blow on it before you take a bite."

"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff." He responded, setting his book down and taking the hot bowl.

"No problem. Tell me, Peter, I assume you know the days of the week, right?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure what day it is today."

"It's Wednesday." Peter hummed in thanks and Nat continued, "Every Wednesday, Saturday, and Monday, you will be eating your meals in your room. You have permission–and are encouraged–to invite one of us to eat with you."

He nodded, not sure what to say, "Thank you."

They began eating in silence, Peter took tentative bites, unsure of it. However, he ended up absolutely loving the food and almost scarfing it down– to Nat's amusement. The two quietly watched as the sun dipped down the horizon.

"You like Shakespeare?" Romanoff smiled when she noticed the discarded copy of _The Merchant of Venice_.

Thinking he was in trouble for reading, he tried to think of something to say, "I'm sorry. FRIDAY told me that I could read and I just really like the books. I thought since it gave me permission I could–"

"Woah, woah, hold in there. You're not in trouble at all. It's good that you're reading. I like Shakespeare too. Do you have a favourite of his?" The older assassin turned to him.

"Well, I've only read nine of his works but I really like either _A Winter's Tale_ or _Hamlet_. _Romeo and Juliet_ is pretty good too." He replied, relaxing minutely at the thought of him not being in trouble. **(I've only read nine of his works so whatever Peter's read, I have too).**

"Why do you like them so much?" Natasha wanted to know more about this kid's few interests.

"Because they're real. Aside from _A Winter's Tale's_ ending... they don't have any happy endings, do they?" He responded simply, "Maybe there aren't." She let out a sigh and turned back to the cityscape. "I like _As You Like It_ because of how unrealistic it is. It's a good escape."

"Yeah, it is." The brunette nodded in agreement and took a bite of his macaroni.

They continued talking about Shakespeare, discussing the plots and characters. The two happily found something other than assassination in common.

When they finished their food, the redhead turned to the teen. "You know, there's a movie based loosely on Hamlet. We're going to watch it tonight."

Peter, having no fucking clue what a movie was, just agreed, "Yes, Ms. Romanoff."

Ten minutes later, Spider found himself back in the common room, trailing behind Natasha as she led him to the kitchen.

"Here, rinse your bowl out like this," she showed him how to rinse the bowl, "then put it in the dishwasher like this."

Peter did as told and earned a praise from Nat, making him internally very happy.

"Alright, come with me." She led him to the cushion area and plopped herself down beside Clint on the couch.

In the area he could see Tony curled up into Steve in the corner of the couch. There was Clint and Natasha on the other side. The twins were back and Pietro was sitting between Clint and Tony. Wanda sat on the floor in front of Vision– who was in an armchair. Pepper wasn't there and nor was Bruce.

Spider felt kind of awkward standing in front of them when they all looked so relaxed. Shouldn't they have their guards up? Shouldn't they be wary of him? Why were they so chill with him there?

"Take a seat." Steve said in what sounded almost like an order. His hand swept over the available options– an armchair and a love seat.

Peter very cautiously sat on the floor in front of Pietro. He was wary of the cushion things and they seemed to be as sink-able as the bed last night. Not something he wants to sit in. Besides, he wasn't sure if he was allowed to sit on something so plush. So, he resorted to the floor– his one true friend.

"Did Nat tell you about what we're going to watch?" Clint asked.

"Yes sir." The teen responded monotonously.

"One of my favourites." The archer commented to nobody in particular.

"FRIDAY, play _The Lion King_." Tony commanded, pulling the blankets on himself.

Suddenly, the black screen in front of them lit up with different shades of blue, brown and yellow. A catchy melody played as a tall structure with a cloth waving at the top panned into view. The structure was beautiful, tall and lit up. Other coloured lights seemed to explode behind it with little boom sounds. A waterfall-like white light made a semi-circle over the structure. Beneath it, the name 'Disney' faded into view.

Peter, to say the least, was immediately entranced. It was a bit loud for his liking, but he said nothing. It started off with loud, incoherent music and what looked like the sun rising in a nature-y place. There were tall, yellow things with brown spots and long limbs. There were ginormous grey creatures with long noses, white fang-like things and big ears. Some creatures were smaller, hopping from tree to tree with long curled tails and human hands. Others were birds with long beaks and legs that soared in groups over waterfalls.

As the movie progressed, introducing the main characters, Spider couldn't help but slowly get closer to the TV. It was as if it were an instinct. He watched as the one they called 'Mufasa' spoke to his son about where the light touches.

"He's going to die." Peter predicted in a murmur, recognizing him as King Hamlet I and Scar as Claudius the evil uncle.

Steve, being the only one who heard him, couldn't help but be impressed by his intuition. At one point, when Scar says 'long live the king' and flings him off the cliff, Peter's lips twitch into an almost-but-not-quite smile.

Spider has decided that he loves Scar.

He's funny, conniving, sneaky, and smart.

But it gets even better when Scar sings.

In the young brunette's opinion, _Hakuna Matata_ was a good song. It was catchy and light, offering some relaxation to Simba's life. Yet it was not as good as _Be Prepared_. Now that was a masterpiece. Of course, Peter had no idea what anything was but he knew it was all so beautiful.

The Avengers were hardly focusing on the movie anymore so much as the teenager. It was wholesome seeing his eyes filled with wonder and awe at such a simple thing. They just contained their little chuckles until it was over.

When it was, Peter was almost... Disappointed. He was sad it didn't end in a complete bloodbath with one survivor and he was sad that Simba didn't duel another guy his age. Well, Natasha _did_ say 'loosely based' after all.

As the end credits rolled around, everyone began to get up, going their separate ways to bed with quick 'goodnights'. Except for Clint and Pietro– Pietro had fallen asleep on top of the archer so he was stuck for the next while.

"Enjoy the movie?" Wanda's accented voice came from beside him. She was smiling.

"Yes, Wanda."

"Good, time to go to bed." She replied, waiting for Peter to get up before turning towards the stairs.

All Peter thought about that night–as he uncomfortably drifted off to sleep on his soft bedroom floor–was the movie. He's dying to see it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is super short but I wanted Peter to be introduced to TV because... Well, he's going to live with it for awhile. Anyway, I've got nothing else to say. So, please stay home and wash y'alls hands.
> 
> -Swindle


	21. Ch 20- The right teacher

**3rd POV**

Peter was, so far, enjoying his time in this new place. Everyone was kind to him– which made him feel almost... _Sick_ in a way.

He's not used to kindness.

Thanks to that statement–and also because of how unsure and uneducated he is about real things–he stays closed-off and as quiet as possible. Peter gives short answers when he can and tries to just blend in (not something he can do). He's sad that he can't share interests or passions with everybody else. It's frustrating when the twins talk about something he's never heard of before. All he can do is sit and listen. It's hard when he feels so out of place– sticking out like a sore thumb.

When he's not in his room, Pietro, Wanda, or Nat are with him. He sees Clint, Vision, and Steve around, but Steve usually causes his memory to be wiped again. Bruce, Tony, and Pepper are barely around except for the odd meal. Pepper's very wary around him, only ever offering him a polite greeting and a smile– understandable. And he hasn't met Rhodey or Sam yet.

So far, nobody had punished him, tortured him, given him any schooling, made him train, or hurt him in any way. It greatly confused Spider. They always had their guard up near him but were otherwise pretty relaxed and friendly.

Oddly enough, he's been yearning to use his powers. He's never gone six days without using them for anything. His skin has been feeling a little itchy around the wrists where his web-shooting holes make a dent. All the big, bare walls, and tall ceilings of the place seem to taunt him. Just one little climb or one simple web would make him feel better.

Peter hasn't left the same three floors in the week that he's been here. Not saying that it bothers him– he's used to staying in the same spot. Besides, this place is wicked awesome and could entertain him for a _long_ time.

In total, he has had thirteen memory wipes in the past six days. You may think that's a lot, but it truly isn't. Usually, it'd be closer to twenty.

Over the week, a routine has developed.

Wake-up at 7:00am and get dressed into a simple outfit– plain shirt and pants. Don't forget the socks.

Natasha retrieves him from his room at 7:20 and takes him downstairs to eat. If a Maximoff is up–which is a 50/50 chance–then they'll walk him through making something to eat. If not, Natasha will.

7:45 is when one of the twins will definitely be up. They'll take him to what he now knows as the 'living room' and watch something on TV with him– mostly a random assortment of re-runs on cable television.

When 9:00 rolls around, he has to go up to his room for a few hours. Shakespeare is what he invests his time in during those hours. That, and looking outside or memorizing song lyrics. To his content, FRIDAY has become his friend and he often talks with her. He even learned from her that this city is known as 'New York'.

At noon, he is retrieved for lunch– more walk-throughs. Peter has found that he loves making food.

After lunch, him and Wanda go into a white room like the ones he used to kill people in back at the base. There, she summons the familier guy. His job is to try to fight the pain in his head forcing him to unleash his inhumane side. He hasn't been told why he's doing this, but he knows better than to question things. _Comply, Spider, comply_. He can't last more than a minute– which he assumes is good because Wanda always congratulates him after.

When that's over, it's back to his room for a long while unless Clint wants to play Mario Kart with him. Yes, Clint taught him the wonders of Mario Kart and he enjoys the game. Peter's not very good but that doesn't seem to matter to the archer. He's learned that, apparently, in this time period, the twins have schoolwork and actual jobs to do.

Peter gets called for dinner hours later. One thing he finds that he hates about eating with the others is the noise. All the clanking of utensils is extremely loud to his supernatural ears. Not to mention that he can hear every chew, every swallow, every heartbeat, and every conversation. He hates it. But he puts up with it, of course, because good weapons don't complain.

Dinner finishes and its movie time. They're always Disney movies. They've seen _The Lion King_ , _Sleeping Beauty_ – not a fan, _Snow White_ – didn't like that one either, _Mulan_ – best one yet, _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ , and _Hercules_. Peter loves (almost) each one.

Bedtime comes right after. Spider has grown accustomed to the soft floor of his room. However, he still dislikes his bed. Nightmares have been plaguing his dreams each night. When he wakes up, he's often either drenched in sweat and whimpering, or screaming brokenly, or sometimes both. Wanda will open his door to make sure he's alright before sending him to sleep again (if it's still during the night).

In short, Peter has been more or less perfectly content yet confused in this place.

He was even more confused when he was left alone in his room because the others had a meeting, and Mr. Stark of all people came back to tell him something intriguing.

_**Flashback** _

_"Peter, we have a meeting, so just stay in your room. Okay?" Nat asked from the doorway._

_"Yes, Ms. Romanoff." He replied obediently._

_"Good. I'll see you later." She waved and left, the door automatically closing behind her._

_Spider said an unheard goodbye and took a seat beside the bookshelf. He asked FRIDAY to play him the soundtrack of Mulan as he just sat there, lost in his own thoughts._

_In a meeting room only a few floors down, the Avengers were gathered together to discuss a few things._

_"You all know why you're here, so I'll get right to it. What do you think of Peter of the past week?" Natasha asked, standing in front of the group with her arms folded._

_"Secluded. Closed-off. Uptight. Obedient. Always observing like everything is dangerous. He's taken an interest in Disney though." Wanda replied._

_Clint nodded, "I think he likes Mario Kart but I can't really read the dude."_

_"I'm pretty sure he enjoys cooking too. But that could also be the general desire of approval." Pietro waved his hand in the air dismissively._

_Nat's eyes squinted, "No, he definitely likes cooking."_

_Wanda hummed in agreement, "I've been trying to get him to open up but it's not really working. He's so defensive. He never talks more than he has to and he never has any facial expressions. I try not to use my powers to read him if I can. And anyway, I don't have a lifetime's worth of real-world experience either. So it's a bit difficult."_

_"Give it time, he'll warm up. He's new to this."_

_"You know, I think he's doing a good job at learning how to be normal. It's only been a week and he knows basic cooking and Mario Kart. He's almost... Too good. Don't you think that's a little weird?" Clint stroked his chin._

_"No. Not at all. For someone like Peter, the hardest thing will be learning that he has free will. Learning about the real world isn't so hard because he's never been in it. It's like learning a new language but bit more complex– he has no experience and no critical teachers, therefore doesn't know much about whether he's doing things right or wrong. Whereas Bucky, who had real-life experience, knew about free will, but had to re-learn them and re-train his mind." The redhead explained simply._

_"The only issue is finding him the right teacher..." Steve commented mysteriously._

_"We can't stay with him all day anymore." Pietro spoke up, then continued, "We're falling behind in our online classes and we still have part-time jobs we want to do." It's true, the twins have been doing high school online because, with their line of work and social skills, it's hard to be in an actual school._

_"I agree, we need somebody who can stay with him full-time without the risk of him attacking them."_

_"Somebody... Commanding but not. Somebody who can tell him what to do but make it seem fun– not like an order. Y'know?" Bruce supplied._

_"Is there anyone who would voluntarily spend time with somebody who could snap at any second?" Clint scoffed._

_The room went silent, each person thinking of someone to fill the role._

_Finally, a husky voice spoke up behind a hand, "I think I know a girl."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter (sorry) but I really wanted to write it. Stay safe and inside, my beloved entities.
> 
> -Swindle


	22. Ch 21-Princesses and razorblades

**3rd POV**

The next day, Peter found himself standing beside what he was told was a landing pad.

He shivered in the cold wind–spiders don't do cold–and squinted from the unnaturally bright light that sat in the grey-blue sky. From here, he could see all around the city. Buildings stretched on and on in each direction– just walls of grey, black, and brown. There were lights in different colours that he could pick up with his super sight. All the _everything_ was so cool.

But there were a few things he found he hated about standing outside in a city. The sensations. The wind was too cold, as established. Loud, rumbling things that hurt his ears flew overhead, disappearing in the clouds. He could hear loud beeps on the ground way below, and the general hustle and bustle of the _amount of people, like hOLY FRICK–_ And even the smells overwhelmed him. Sure, the crisp, semi-clean air was nice. But he could smell a nauseating mix of scents travel up from the ground below.

The beauty of it all came at a cost, he supposed.

As he stood there with the others, something came into sight. It was grey, in the sky, and nearing them quickly. The thing hung much lower that the white things that passed above them. Every second was louder and louder for his poor ears, until the large thing landed on the roof and the noise throbbed painfully in his head.

A platform descended from the machine and somebody walked out.

She was young–around his age–and had chocolate brown skin. Her hair was a darker brown, tied back into two thick buns. Like her skin and hair, her eyes were brown as well. Her stature was shorter than him by a few inches and she looked as lanky as him. She wore an open, beige woolly sweater with a short white shirt underneath that had her tummy peeking out. Black sweats and black shoes adorned her lower half. She tugged a large red suitcase after her as she neared the group.

Behind her, an older man followed. He looked closer to Mr. Rogers' age. His hair was extremely short, black, and thick like his companion. His skin and eyes bore a very similar resemblance to the girl. Unlike the young lady, he wore simple black gown-like thing with a grey pattern and sandals.

"T'Challa." Steve dipped his head in greeting at the man and shook his hand.

"Good afternoon, Rogers. Stark." The man–T'Challa–nodded back and shook both their hands.

"Princess." Tony acknowledged.

"Hey Stark." She smiled.

"Thank you for doing this." Steve said.

"It was no problem. We helped White Wolf and we will help your little Spider." He waved off their thanks with a grin.

"Another broken white boy to fix." The princess' smile grew wider and T'Challa rolled his eyes with an exasperated huff.

They finished exchanging pleasantries. There was nothing too interesting that they said.

"See you in a month or so, brother." The girl–who he now knows as 'Shuri'–hugged her brother goodbye.

The group, now with Shuri, watched the King take off and disappear. Peter was thankful the added noise was gone. Most of the official Avengers left so it was just Natasha who remained.

Shuri walked up to Peter and Natasha.

"Peter, this is Princess Shuri of Wakanda. Shuri, this is Peter Parker." She introduced the two formally.

"Hey Peter." The brown-skinned girl nodded her head in acknowledgment and stuck her hand out.

"Good afternoon ma'am." Spider replied automatically and shook her hand, before retreating it behind his back again.

"Shuri." She corrected, "Call me Shuri."

"Yes, Shuri."

"Peter, Shuri will be staying here for at least a month. Her job here is to... spend time with you because the twins will be busier in the upcoming weeks. You'll still have your sessions with Wanda and the same eating schedule. You're just going to be with Shuri most of the time." Natasha informed.

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff." Peter didn't really know what to think of this. _Do the twins not like me anymore? Do they think I'm too boring? Did I do something wrong?_

 _"_ In return for her being with you all the time, your job is to protect her at all costs. Wherever she goes, you go. Unless told otherwise. If you're ever in danger and one of us aren't there, you keep her safe. She's an important person and we can't have her dying." Romanoff gave him a slightly more commanding tone at this part, making him automatically oblige on instinct.

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff. Mission: Protect Shuri at all costs." He recited, holding the princess' brown gaze. _Important person? I wonder how important if I have to protect her at all costs._

"Good. Take these." The redhead held out two black bands to the teens. They each took one. "Put these on. FRIDAY is in them so you can talk to her as normal. The red button is for if Shuri is in danger. Press it and we'll come as quickly as possible. The blue button is for if Peter slips away. Shuri, only you have it."

The teenage girl nodded, already informed of Spider's terrifying episodes– she wasn't keen on witnessing one.

"Alright, let's get you to your rooms." The older assassin led the two inside and up to their rooms. Shuri, instead of having the usual Wakandan guest room, was going to have the spare beside Peter's. That way, she could monitor him closer.

Later, when the two teenagers were in Peter's room, Shuri asked him a question.

"Do you know what vines are?" A mischievous grin spread quickly across her face.

"No, Shuri." He shook his head, almost ashamed at how he didn't know because of the look on her face.

She shot up from where she was lying across his bed. A shocked look was evident on her face. The dark-skinned girl scrambled up and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. As she unlocked it and searched for something, Shuri sat down beside Spider at the foot of the bed– making sure not to get too close because she was informed that he didn't do human contact.

"I am about to culture you." She said as she began to play a video.

Peter watched in fascination. _This tiny box is playing things like the TV! How?_ The videos were surprisingly... Funny. They were short and simple, but the humour was perfect. Of course, he didn't understand most of them thanks to his lack of knowledge, but he didn't care. The arachnid could feel Shuri look over at him every once in awhile to make sure he was watching.

For the first time in probably four years, he smiled.

A genuine, real smile of content.

When the dark brunette saw, she whispered under her breath with fascination, "FRIDAY, take a picture." And Peter didn't even notice.

They watched many compilations, most having a few of the same videos. However, Spider couldn't care less. This was the most fun he's had in many years– aside from maybe Mario Kart. He never laughed though. Peter wasn't even sure if he had ever laughed before.

Time passed and the two eventually stopped watching the videos. They remained sitting side-by-side but now, Peter was reading a copy of _Macbeth_ and Shuri was scrolling through Instagram.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spider could see the girl lift her head slowly, another mischievous grin on her face. He brought his gaze to meet hers and saw a glimmer of... Questioning there.

Slowly but with much hope, Shuri spoke, "'I have like, sixty-nine cents.'"

Peter recognizing the quote from a vine he had seen minutes earlier and exchanged a look with Shuri. A silent conversation passed between them and the princess nodded surely.

Not certain that he was allowed to speak, the brunette whispered hoarsely, "'Oh! You know what that means?'"

"'I don't have enough money for chicken nuggets.'" She finished happily and smiled at the boy, holding her hand up for a high-five.

Peter flinched away from the hand on instinct, afraid he was going to get slapped. _Was I not supposed to speak? She didn't ask me a direct question. Shit._

Shuri saw him flinch and immediately regretted putting her hand up. _I should have known. Wanda told me he was abused_.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. It's called a high-five. See?" She slowly reached over to his hand and when he didn't move away, she brought it up next to hers. Her hand clapped against his briefly and them lowered back down, his following en suite. "It's what people do when something goes right. Like a small victory."

He nodded but never spoke, still eyeing her hand warily. Time to commit 'high-fives' to memory.

A few days went by and the Avengers saw that the two teens were getting along well. For the first time ever, they saw Peter smile, and here's why...

They sat together at the table, enjoying the meal of mashed potatoes, beans, salad, and sausage that Steve and Natasha had made. Bits of conversation went around here and there but nothing too interesting that they dwelled on.

When the table lapsed in silence, Shuri cleared her throat with a coy smile and spoke, "'Road work ahead?'"

"'Uh yeah, I sure hope it does.'" Came an automatic response from... Peter!? –Who sat beside her.

Everybody stared at him in astonishment because he was smiling. _Smiling_. The normally serious, emotionless, closed-off kid was now smiling shyly at his plate. It was tiny but a smile nonetheless. Shuri hovered her hand over the table palm-up and Peter lightly slapped it in a high-five.

After that day, they saw him smile just a bit more.

The days went by a lot quicker for Spider. It had been a day over three weeks since he got here and a but more than two weeks since Shuri arrived. In this time, he had discovered many things.

Movies and TV in general was now a very relevant thing in his life. He heard the Avengers quote things from popular television a lot. Mostly, he didn't know where from, but there was the odd chance he did– and he felt ridiculously proud. Some nights, when neither him nor Shuri couldn't sleep, they'd sit on Peter's bed and binge episodes of Modern Family on his flatscreen.

Clint occasionally played some Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros with him. The archer was better at Mario Kart but Peter easily beat him in Smash Bros. It was amusing seeing the older man frustrated with his controls.

He read a lot. Like, _a lot_. Before, it had just been Shakespeare and Children's books. But now, he was reading Harry Potter– per Shuri's request. In short, he loved it. Spider started a week ago but was already on the second book.

Vines were, of course, quoted and watched daily. Shuri made a rule that if a vine is started, one must finish it. She had somehow convinced him to actually initiate some vines instead of just finishing them. That also got him to very rarely, like, _very rarely_ speak without being asked a question.

He had his usual session with Wanda– which was painful but some kind of weird determination just made him want to go longer with killing the man. So far, Peter could last fifteen minutes on a good day. However, it was more common for him to push just past ten before snapping and being forced to succumb.

Cooking had become a big part of his life, too. He had learned how to make his own food–with supervision–and how to clean up after himself. It was nice being able to make real food and get to enjoy it. Wanda taught him a lot about different foods that go well together. His favourite food was either chili, or pancakes.

Shuri had shown him a science lab and Peter immediately fell in love. She told him all about different things you could do with tools, chemicals, metal, etc... He had studied these things a lot in HYDRA, but never got to do any hands-on work. Now, almost every morning, him and Shuri would go into the spare lab beside Stark's and mess around with whatever they could find. Speaking of Stark– Tony would sometimes visit them in their lab and look at whatever they were tinkering with. He showed them some of the less confidential things he was working on and gave them input on what they were making that day.

As the days progressed, his mind felt... Clearer. He had more memories, but also more pain. Every kill, every torture session, every schooling session, every mission, and every bit of training he ever did eventually creeped into his mind. The mysterious man with the stories was still blurred though. Peter couldn't see him no matter how much he focused. But he could still recite the stories in his head, smiling at all the amazing things him and Steve did. When Spider saw the blond super soldier around, he would ask him about whether or not the stories were true. Steve always looked a little baffled– how did Peter know these details? They weren't in the history books. But he answered truthfully and confirmed the stories, making the little brunette smile.

Peter had less episodes these days. It came to a point where one a day was considered uncommon. Instead, it was more like four a week. There were points when he felt like both. Peter and the Winter Spider. Trapped in two worlds. Knowing that he could stop himself from hurting anybody– that he could _move_ , but not because he had the ghost of an order to kill. Those days drove him mad with frustration.

Nightmares came more often. Every night would be plagued with imagines of his past. When he woke up, it was rare to fall back asleep again. The most sleep he could get a night would be five hours. Sometimes, he'd just lay there on the floor and imagine he was back at HYDRA, back at his normal life. A life where he didn't have to make choices, where he was told what to do, one where his mind and actions belonged to other people.

Over the course of the past week, his Spider Sense had gone dull around these humans. It was never as strong as back in the base, but still ever-present. Now, it was a barely-noticeable hum. That confused him like all hell. Was he already subconsciously starting to trust these people? They weren't dangerous? They weren't going to hurt him?

There was one night he couldn't take it anymore. He had woken up from a usual nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep. '4:11 in the morning' FRIDAY had informed him with her usual polite Irish voice. Wanda had come in but he insisted that he was fine and just needed to stay awake. He hated keeping her up like this, it wasn't fair to her. Now, Peter was sprawled out on the ground, alone with his thoughts. Regrets, mistakes, pain, punishment, suffering, torture, death– they all swirled in an endless whirlpool in his mind.

However, one thing was more present than the others.

Pain.

 _Pain, pain, pain_. It was a mantra in his head.

 _Pain, pain, pain_. Something he used to experience everyday of his life, but now lived without.

 _Pain, pain, pain_. Telling him he was a good, perfect weapon.

A desire. A need. A soother for his broken mind. Familiarity. Peter was going insane with it.

 _Pain, pain, pain_. He needed it.

His mind spun with the thoughts of blades being dragged over his skin. _Weapon. I'm a good weapon. Emotions. I'm not supposed to have those. Punishment. That's what happens when I show emotions. Weak. Emotions are a weakness. I have to punish myself._

Emotions. He's been having a lot of those recently. Which of course, meant punishment.

Peter hoisted himself up off the ground and stumbled to the bathroom, drunk on the need to punish himself. He wasn't a masochist. Not at all. He hated pain. But the rules were that 'if we don't punish you, punish yourself'. Honestly, he had no idea why he felt like this– wanting punishment so badly. But his blood was boiling and his skin was itchy. It felt like a fever dream.

I'm a good weapon. I'm a good weapon. I'm a good weapon... I'm an obedient weapon. I'll do anything you ask. Peter thought to himself, imagining that he was speaking to an Agent. He opened the bathroom door and stepped in, hungrily searching for something to punish himself with.

On the edge of the tub, he spotted a razor for shaving– he never used it but it was always there. _Blades, there are blades on those_. He literally ripped off his long-sleeve shirt and discarded it haphazardly. Peter picked up the shaver and used his strength to rip it apart, the blades clattering to the floor. His hands shook as he picked up the thin pieces of metal.

*****Self-harm starts**

The brunette tested the sharpness of the blade on the tip of his finger. It was a little duller than the knives he's used to, but would do the trick. Blood trickled down his finger but there wasn't enough to make it past his hand.

Peter took the same blade and set it against his already-scarred left arm. With a deep breath, he sharply dragged it down, welcoming the pain with a content–but pained–sigh. A large stream of blood stained his skin, dripping onto the tile floor. Spider brought the blade down again, creating a new cut, this time smaller. He made a final third cut before seeming to snap out of whatever the hell kind of trance he was in.

*****Self-harm stops, but he's still having a scarring episode**

The boy barely noticed as his shaking hand dropped the bloodstained piece of metal. All he focused on was the pain and the red. So much red. It covered the underside of his forearm and quickly dripped into a large puddle on the white floor. Peter stumbled back into the sink, cringing at the contact.

Memories clouded his vision. He was sent to all the times he harmed an innocent person. Their dead bodies dropped to the floor, blood pouring out and covering the floor. So much innocent blood spilled. They didn't deserve that.

Spider watched in horror as everyone died over and over. Sticky, red blood was all he ever saw. The walls, floors, furniture, and even himself were stained with it.

"No! Stop it! I didn't mean to. Please..." He shrieked when he saw the innocent people talk incoherently to him, all trying to convey that it was _'His fault. All his fault'_.

Peter didn't really realize he had tripped backwards into the tub, but he was there now. Bruises formed on the places that came in contact with the hard, white container.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please... I'm sorry." Tears blurred his vision as he tried to beg for them to go away.

The boy was barely aware that the door had busted open, two girls hurrying in. Wanda and Shuri exchanged looks when they saw the boy in the tub. He looked awful. Sitting there, legs hanging over the side uncomfortably, hair matted with sweat, and eyes filled with tears. They saw his bloody arm set beside him, pooling in the tub and staining his grey sweats. Peter looked so far gone. Looking down, the floor of the bathroom had a big puddle beside the sink along with four razor blades sitting in the mess.

Shuri walked over to Peter while Wanda went to get stuff to clean the blood.

"Hey Peter." He was startled when he heard her voice. "It's okay, it's just me, Shuri. Your favourite brown girl." The kid in the tub relaxed. "FRIDAY alerted us that you were harming yourself. Can you tell us what happened?"

She carefully sat down on the edge, cramming to the side as to not touch him.

" _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't want to kill them. I'm sorry_." He just kept mumbling 'I'm sorry' in Russian, his brown eyes staring at nothingness in the distance.

Wanda returned with some cleaning supplies and cloths, "Here, let me see him. Could you clean this up?"

The princess nodded and took the stuff, getting to work immediately.

"Hey Spider. How do you feel?" She started cautiously, sitting where Shuri sat moments ago.

" _Punishment. Emotions mean punishment. Pain is good_." Peter was spewing nonsense in Russian at this point, barely paying attention to the two girls.

It took some time, but they got him to sit on the edge of the tub as Wanda cleaned him up. Shuri finished cleaning the floor and took the blades, wrapping them in a cloth and confiscating them.

"Shuri, can you grab him another pair of sweatpants and maybe a shirt too, please?"

The younger female nodded and set off on her quest.

Peter, having his mind back and no more illusions, just sat there defeated. He felt weak. So, so weak. This world was never where he belonged.

Peter Parker was meant to be in New York.

The Winter Spider was not.

He's a hazard to everyone around him. A plague. A problem. The real world wasn't prepared for him and it never will be. HYDRA was where he belonged. He could be a freak, a killer, a mistake– over there. Not here.

With lidded, exhausted eyes, he watched Wanda stitch him up. She just sat there, patiently fixing him.

But in reality, nobody could fix him.

No matter how hard anyone tried, he was always going to be like this. Broken. His life would always be spent halfway in the past, surrounded by his mistakes. Stuck in two worlds. Another round of tears flowed from his eyes and he bit back a sob, opting for burying his head in his hand. He was pathetic. Sitting here being looked after because he couldn't be normal.

That day was the first time that the reality of Peter's world crashed down on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I tried a bit of angst and there you go. It might not be amazing so there's a chance I'll touch up this chapter another time. Peter's having a hard time being stuck in two worlds.
> 
> If you're having suicidal thoughts or indulging in self-harm please tell someone. I'm open to talk and I may not be close to a therapist in any way, but I'm here.
> 
> -Swindle


	23. Ch 22-Home?

**3rd POV**

It was an hour after Peter's arm was bandaged up–the girls went back to bed—and he had spent all that time in front of the mirror. His clean shirt lay discarded. The boy was studying his reflection– himself. And he was disgusted with what he saw.

There in the mirror stood a damaged, irremediable, traumatized boy staring back at him through lifeless eyes.

_"_

_It's not the past that you miss,_

_but the version of you that didn't_

_know what you are now._

_A time when you still had no clue_

_your whole life was a lie._

_You miss not knowing that_

_which darkened your smile and_

_stained your heart. The illusion_

_that kept your mind from falling_

_apart_

_"_

_~Poem by S.S.W_

The first crack in the glass had been made.

The first piece had fallen away, showing him a world that he had hoped to be a part of.

But not the one he ever belonged in.

The childish hand that used to be on the tinted glass, longing for the other side, was now older and more mature. This newer, aged, battered hand longed to be weak and childish once more– to retreat back to the life he's always known.

He stood there staring at himself. At the thin, hollow boy in the mirror who hadn't quite filled in yet despite all the food. At the dead, hopeless eyes that lost their twinkle long ago. The eyes of a broken dreamer that bore into his skin until he shifted uncomfortably— scratching at itches that could never be quelled. Scratching until his skin was red and irritated, but it wasn't ever enough. _Why wasn't it enough?_

He stared at his body– the scars. Some old, some new. They each told a lesson or a story. Some were reminders of who he should be. Others were of the things he's been through. They'd always be there, haunting him until death. Representing his life as the perfect weapon. He stared at the brand that read 'Hail HYDRA'. He wanted to punch the glass, fruitlessly hoping that if the reflection of his scar breaks, the real one would go away.

He also wanted to scream. Let out all the anger and frustration over the years. To let out everything he had wanted to say. Of course, he didn't. A voice in the back of his head still yelled at him to 'shut up' and 'only speak when answering a question'. Obediently, he kept his mouth shut, building up the hurricane within, and praying it would never be released.

One more look at his scars.

They were ugly.

He hated them with a passion.

But they had always been there, ever since he was small. Reminders. He didn't ne _ed reminders for God's sake; the nightmares were enough. Or were they? No, no they weren't. Nothing's ever going to be enough._

Because he's never going to be normal.

He's never going to heal.

Anxiety, trauma, PTSD, nightmares (and terrors)... He'll have to deal with those even more now– now that his world has expanded beyond impenetrable white-washed walls and carnage.

His spirit had been continuously beaten down to a pulp. It was broke in enough that he thought he could never truly be happy again. Everyday– every _emotion_ it felt like the noose over his heart tightened, waiting until a trigger causes it to pop so he could just be pushed back under again.

He felt selfish for wanting someone to tell him _everything was going to be okay_. It wasn't. Who was he kidding? Nobody cared. Nobody had since he left.

Peter felt sick. He doubled over the toilet and threw up, flushing it down then washing his mouth. He scrubbed around his lips it like he did with scratching his skin–until it was red and bothered.

Another queasy look at his scarred body. Then to the Med kit on the floor. Rummaging through it, he found the same long white bandages Wanda had used to cover his arm. Carefully, he unraveled them around his body. (Mainly his abdomen and back where the brands were). When as much of his torso and right arm were as covered as possible, he made sure the fabric was secure before letting go.

Looking back at his reflection, there was less a sense of self-loathing, and more of exhausted satisfaction.

Peter tugged his shirt back on and dragged himself out of the washroom. He certainly wasn't going back to sleep again this morning.

A week had passed since his self-harming incident, (a month and a bit since arriving here). He had done it again yesterday but for a different reason.

This time, it was because of touch.

Touch.

Such a simple concept. Something every human is–or at least _should_ be–acquainted with all their lives. Whether it be a motherly touch, a victorious high-five, a congratulating pat on the back, or a loving cuddle on the couch– everybody experienced touch in some way, shape, or form.

Not Peter.

He didn't know how to touch. The last person who touched him had left, leaving him with more issues than before. He hates touch. Usually it signifies pain for him– punishment, mistakes, murders, the list goes on.

Not here.

In this place, touch is such a carefree, simple thing. Everyone does it. Peter notices when Tony curls into Steve–the most masculine of them all–for movies, (the same goes for Pietro and Clint). He notices how Barton always has some part of him touching somebody else when on the couch. Whether it be his head in Nat's lap or his feet tucked under Steve's thigh, he was always in contact with someone. Pietro had the same sort of touch-desire thing. And it never went unnoticed by Peter when Steve places a gentle kiss on Tony's head, or when Bruce put his hand on somebody's back when squeezing by. Even Natasha, in all her scary, badass glory, allows Clint, Steve, and Wanda get close enough to touch her.

So many touches and gestures that Peter didn't think he'd ever understand. It was like an unspoken language. Everything meant something. No matter how small.

Another reason why he never fit in.

To him, touch was a plague. He kept as far away from people as possible. When somebody came in contact with him, he'd flinch away, regretting it and apologizing afterwards. He hated how, when touched even a little, his skin would burn similar to when he used to be dragged around. This frustrated him so much. Peter knew he was missing out on something essential to this new life. Yet he couldn't do anything about because he didn't trust them not to hurt him.

Another maddening thing was his Spider Sense. It was genuinely calm around these people– a firm reason why he should trust them enough to touch him. His Sense never lied to him. He was safer here. However, his mind betrayed him, playing into trauma and anxiety to keep him away from everybody.

In short, touch is the reason why he harmed himself again yesterday. That time, he cut lines along his fingers as punishment for never trusting his hands. Peter only got to three fingers on his right hand and one on his left before Wanda burst through the door on high-alert. She had patched him up gently and left with a woebegone smile, going back to bed.

Now it was the next day and Spider sat in his room. He was humming _Seize the Day_ from _Newsies_ –the only sound in the silent room–while doing a puzzle of abstract colours. Rays of golden sun shone through the windows, illuminating the room in a warm yellow glow that Peter basked in welcomingly. The time was 2:02– a time when the twins were usually doing their schoolwork. Shuri had to go to Wakanda for something but she said she'd be back for dinner at the earliest. Natasha was likely training with Clint at this time. So now he was alone– something he was familiar with but didn't necessarily favour, considering he was used to being around at least one other person now.

As the minutes ticked by, Peter grew very thirsty. He debated on going to the kitchen and getting a drink. Shuri always allowed him to, so there shouldn't be a problem. Besides, on the rare occasion he goes places alone, FRIDAY always alerts him where he shouldn't go.

After a lot of internal arguments, he gave in and decided to sneak downstairs to get a drink.

Peter made his way down the hall, his footfalls completely silent. He snuck down the stairs, keeping his eyes on his feet so he wouldn't slip from these _very soft_ socks. When he rounded the glass corner to the common room, he looked up.

And saw _him_.

The illusion who he had to restrain himself from killing every lesson.

Whoever this man was, he didn't seem to notice him yet. Mr. Illusion was very invested in whatever he was reading... _I didn't know he read, since he's fake._ Spider spotted Wanda sitting in an armchair doing work on a computer. Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw Steve's wide–and panicky–eyes darting between the two. His strong hand was frozen mid-putting a piece of bread in his mouth. The blond's other hand quietly pulled out his phone and hit the recording button.

Wanda hadn't noticed him yet, so she was oblivious to him seeing the man.

Peter was thoroughly perplexed. His lesson had ended more than an hour ago. So why was the illusion here? He slunk forward with curiosity. The annoying tug of familiarity brought the brunette closer to _him_. A faint smell of apples came from the man– not normal but still... _Expected_ in a way.

Interest getting the best of him, Spider asked a question– something he only did with Shuri, "Hey Wanda?"

She hummed, still not paying attention to what was happening, instead, typing away at the keyboard with fixed eyes. But the man's head shot up, his eyes widening comically– he's never done that before. The man shifted weirdly and put his book down rapidly, yet never moved to get up. He took in everything about the teen, a curious and wild-but-caring light in his eyes.

Peter couldn't find the strength to tear his gaze away from the guy. He was dying to know why this man felt important to him. Something deep inside him wanted to pull him towards that guy, just like every time he saw him. But today was somehow much stronger. The shoulder-length dark brown hair, striking blue eyes that looked haunted, and burly build– it felt all-too-familiar. Almost like the answer to every feeling he ever had was sitting only a few meters away. _Why do I feel like I know this guy?_ Yet at the same time, there was the faint itch to kill him. An itch that never felt like his own emotions...

"W-why is there an illusion here? I thought our lesson ended an hour ago." _Dammit, I stuttered_.

At that, Maximoff's head whipped towards him. And then to the man. "Shit!" She exclaimed loudly. Then muttered, "There's no going back now, I guess."

A tense silence blanketed the room. Peter and the unknown figure stared at each other while Wanda and Steve looked between them. Spider felt like he should say something, _anything_ , since he was the one who got them in this uncomfortable situation.

"I'm sorry– FRIDAY never told me I couldn't be here and I was super thirsty, so I thought I could get a drink. Shuri always allows me to and I know she's not here–" he was ranting again. A bad habit he had when he felt like he was doing something wrong. Peter rocked on his heels, arms squirming behind his back.

"Peter, calm down. You're allowed to get a drink. Stark is re-programming some of FRIDAY's protocols today, so she's not fully working at the moment." She sighed in defeat, "I guess this is a good time to introduce you two. C'mere Peter."

He walked forward and stood beside Wanda, now only two feet away from the man.

There was a mixed expression of longing, desperation, and frustration in the stranger's eyes. It was evident that he wanted to reach out to the arachnid but knew better.

"So," she laughed nervously, "Peter, this isn't an illusion. This is the real person." Wanda informed and motioned for the man to stand up, to which he obliged. Spider gulped, _The real deal. I could actually kill this one._ "Well go on, introduce yourselves."

"H-hello, my name is PT– sorry, Peter Parker. My name is Peter Parker." _Well that was the crappiest introduction in the history of introductions_. He anxiously held his hand out.

The man took it with his non-gloved (flesh) hand, his grasp very firm and calloused, but warm. "The name's James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone calls me 'Bucky' though." He responded, equally as nervous, but for a different reason. The man's voice was deep, hoarse, and a bit gravelly from what was assumed to be disuse. Peter noted that he had a slight accent to his voice that he couldn't identify. After a deep breath, Bucky continued with an anxious and dry laugh,

"I think you know me better as the Winter Soldier."

Time seemed to stop, and suddenly it was just the two male HYDRA experiments.

Peter let out a sharp breath and his eyes went as wide as saucers, hundreds of lost emotions rushing through his body like a tsunami. There was no amount of words in the universe that could ever explain how he felt at that moment.

_How could I be so stupid?_

Spider didn't really know how to feel. He didn't know so many emotions could wash over him in a split-second. There was anger for leaving him. Relief because he wasn't dead. Joy because Peter could finally see him again. Betrayal for not returning to get him. Grief since he was gone for so long– thought to be dead. Enthusiasm because maybe he could spend more time with Soldier. Disappointed in himself that he's been killing his best friend everyday for the past month. Devastation because maybe Soldier didn't like him anymore– maybe he left for a reason.

Too many foreign emotions to process.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something about the absolutely conflicted look on the teen's face. But before anything came out, a sharp slap struck him across the face. A whistle and stifled chuckle was heard from Steve. Instinctively, Barnes brought his hand up to the reddening patch. _Ok, that's fair_ , he thought, knowing he deserved that after being gone for four years without a word. Lots of guilt on his part.

"Yeah, that's–" as he was voicing his thoughts, he was cut off.

Two lanky arms enveloped him in an unusually tight hug. Bucky grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, taking a step back to bear the force. Arms shaky with disbelief, Buck returned the hug just as tight and buried his face in the younger's shoulder.

"I thought you–you died! Or worse; you l-left me." Peter blubbered out, tears spilling onto the older's shoulder and wetting the fabric. "I'm s-sorry." He began wiping his eyes, even though the tears kept pouring. Spider released the older man after a few seconds and took a step back.

"Kid, why are _you_ apologizing? _I'm_ the one who should be apologizing for God's sake!" Bucky exclaimed loudly, gripping the younger's shoulders. And surprisingly, Peter didn't mind the contact despite flinching.

Spider didn't reply, only looking away guiltily.

"You've grown a lot since I last saw you, kid. You must be 5'6" or 5'7"." Bucky remarked with a smile, making sure to call Peter by the affectionate nickname.

Peter looked back to him, a grin creeping on his face, "Of course I have," he scoffed playfully, "it's been four years. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"I can tell."

A slightly hushed silence passed until Peter decided to ask the inevitable.

"Where have you been, Soldier? You told me you'd come back." His gaze averted again and another round of tears welled up on his already-pink eyelids.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Bucky reassured softly, directing Peter's face back to meet his own with his flesh hand. "I'm sorry, kid. I really am. I never wanted to leave but HYDRA made me. I think they knew my attachment to you and they told me that if I resisted, they'd harm you. So I complied– what else was I going to do? They brainwashed me again and made me forget all about you. I was sent on a complicated mission to assassinate a very important person– as usual. And then, somehow, Steve found me and I ended up being pulled away from my life at HYDRA, still forgetting everything. I spent some time here with Steve and the others during the whole Accords thing, then went to Wakanda. Shuri– yes, I know Shuri." He explained at Peter's perplexed look,

"Shuri and some other people put me back under cryo for a bit until they got rid of the HYDRA stuff in my head. But everything was still fuzzy. I spent nearly two years in Wakanda, then came back here less than a year ago. A month ago, I finally remembered you. So we got you out of there, just like I promised. And now we're here." Bucky explained, his eyes glossing over with tears of his own. His metal hand ran through his dark locks. "I'm so sorry, kid. I don't expect you to forgive me."

Peter took a deep, shaky breath, trying to process his friend's story. His reddish cheeks were stained with drying tears.

"You're right. I-I'm not sure if I can forgive you just yet with all the shit that's happened. But I will sometime, I just need time to–to think about everything and get used to seeing you again."

"Yeah, that's fine." Soldier offered a small smile and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, "It's good to see you again, Peter." He spoke the teen's name for the first time and it sounded so perfect to his ears.

"You too, Bucky." They beamed at each other and hugged again– Parker having to stand on his tip-toes to reach the other's height better.

Peter buried his face in Barnes' neck, smiling to himself. (Bucky did the same). This felt right. This tall, broad, muscular frame felt normal touching him– unlike when anybody else touches him. Being hugged by Bucky was purely comforting. No burning skin or feelings of being grabbed. Just warmth and safety enveloped in his arms– a feeling he finally distinctly remembers from years ago in that stone cell. Peter could now identify the older man's familiar smell. It was a mixture of those bitter, crisp, Granny Smith apples he liked, the black coffee Tony drank all the time, an unidentifiable bittersweet smell a bit like dark chocolate, and if there was such thing as smoking ice– a bit cold and wet, but also strong, burning, and very striking.

To sum it all up in one word, it would be 'home'.

_Home._

_That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?_ Peter thought, burying his face further into the older's neck, never wanting to leave this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important A/N! (Kinda). So I found the poem at the top randomly but I've been thinking about using some in the story. They probably won't be mine cuz I don't really write poems– I'll credit the writers. I'll probably use some of Nikka Ursula's (yes, I know they're more Stucky-centered, but I'd love to use some cuz they're too fantastic). If you don't know who Nikka Ursula is, oh boy, you gotta check them out pronto. Also, check out the fic 'Seventy Years Sleep' on this website because it's amazing and fantastically written. (It's a tear-jerker. If there's a fic in every fandom that just makes people feel all the feels because of how breathtaking it is, this one's the one).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this book. Your comments always make me smile. So, thank you for your wonderful support. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing it! Stay safe and in your homes my dear entities.
> 
> ~Swindle


	24. Ch 23-Apples melting from the air

**3rd POV**

After a record-breaking twenty-seven minutes with Bucky, Peter had to go. Wanda hated to separate them, but it had been a long time and she didn't want anything to go wrong. (They were both surprised at how long Spider lasted. So far, twenty minutes has been the maximum amount of time).

Wanda brought a dazed Peter back upstairs, along with a much-needed glass of water, of course.

Bucky just numbly stood there in the common room, missing the warmth from Spider when they hugged. His arms were still slightly curled around the spot where Peter was previously holding onto him. Barnes couldn't find the strength to move, hoping to latch onto the ghost moment for as long as possible.

"Buck, you alright?" Steve asked, leaning over to enter his friend's peripheral vision.

The brunette nodded and limply slumped down onto the couch, picking his book up again and burying his face in it. _I just want to see him again and tell him everything's going to be okay_.

Shuri came back late in the evening and was immediately briefed on the events of the day. Aside from being a bit disappointed about missing the reunion, she was ultimately happy for her friend. (She saw all the video evidence, smiling the whole time).

The two HYDRA assassins saw each other the next morning.

"Morning, kid. Shuri." Bucky grinned and nodded when he saw his two friends turn the corner.

"Morning to you too, Soldier." Peter smiled back. Shuri just dipped her head in acknowledgement.

"A guest is arriving sometime in the next hour." Bucky informed after taking a bite of his croissant.

Peter got this look on his face and his body language shifted. His hands fidgeted restlessly and his jaw clenched, eyes staring ahead like a perfect soldier. It was the look he got when he wanted to ask a question (or even speak), but the other part of his mind was convincing him not to.

"Ask your question, Peter." Shuri waved off, not even having to see him to know that he wanted to ask something.

"Who's coming over?" He breathed a sigh of relief.

"A friends of ours named Sam." Bucky answered.

"Steve's mentioned him a few times."

The kitchen lapsed in silence. Bucky sat at the breakfast bar with Steve, eating their food. Shuri was moving around the kitchen getting ingredients out. Peter stood by politely, not having been told to do anything.

"Peter," the mentioned lifted his head when the princess spoke, "we're making pancakes."

The male teen's lips quirked into a small smile. He loves pancakes.

"What kind of music do you want this morning?" Shuri asked, setting the mixing bowls down with a _clunk_. When Peter started to shift again, looking ahead uncomfortably, she spoke again sternly, "Peter, you have to make some choices yourself. I can't make them all for you every the time."

The brunette rocked on his heels, trying to think of something they'd all like, "FRIDAY, could you put on some Elvis Presley, please?"

 _Hound Dog_ began to flow from everywhere at once– a little loud for Peter but he refused to say anything. As soon as the others smiled, Spider relaxed in knowing that he made a good choice.

The two teens began mixing the wet and dry ingredients in their respective bowls. Halfway through, Peter's hearing informed him of an approaching figure in the elevator. When it dinged, a pair of unfamiliar footsteps exited, causing the teen to turn around and narrow his eyes at the noise. His Spider Sense spiked as they neared– not entirely with danger, but with a general mistrust. Without even thinking, he grabbed a knife off the magnetic rack and cautiously approached the corner.

"What are you–" Shuri was cut off when a man turned the corner, almost bumping into the boy.

"Hey guy– woAHHEYThErekid." He abruptly stopped in his tracks and backed up a few paces, putting distance between himself and the pointy kitchen tool.

Peter was in a fighting stance, tense and skeptical of who this person was. His right hand wielded a carver knife in the stranger's direction, his left in a tight fist. Ready to attack at any given moment. He analyzed the man. Cocoa-skinned, very short black hair (some of it being facial), dark brown eyes, tall, some muscles but not necessarily burly like Bucky (wiry muscle), and a dressy-casual style. He presented himself well– giving out a good impression. His hands were in the air– a surrendering gesture, but they were also balled into fists supposing he needed to defend himself. Chestnut eyes were blown wide in surprise and they darted to the two super soldiers– hesitant and unsure. The guy's heart thumped rapidly in his chest. Peter concluded that the man was seemingly terrified and nervous about him.

Mr. Stranger hastily dropped his arms and resumed a casual stance, as if nothing just happened and he didn't just get the life scared out of him.

"Spider, relax, this is the friend." Bucky was suddenly beside him, hand on his shoulder, stopping him from doing anything.

Peter went slack obediently and bowed his head in shame. _Great first impression. I almost attacked him_. "I'm sorry that I scared you."

"What?" The friend asked in disbelief.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." He repeated, knowing that the other heard fine the first time.

"Psh, naw, you didn't scare me." His hand made a dismissive gesture and he grinned nervously. Steve, Bucky, and Shuri snickered under their breaths. Peter lifted his head, eyes wide as he briefly re-analyzed the man.

"You're lying." _Why am I speaking out of turn? Why am I choosing to be rebellious now? This is literally the worst time–_ "Your heart rate increased as soon as you saw me. And your arms went up in a mixture of a surrendering and defensive manner. Most likely due to the fact that I was holding a knife, therefore posing as a threat to you."

"My heart rate? How did you– _what_?" Sam looked positively bewildered at that point.

"Would you like me to explain?" He earned an 'uh, sure'. "First and foremost, I've already analyzed everything I've seen from you– that's my duty as an assassin. I need to understand the personalities of unfamiliar people and how they operate. Second, I have enhanced senses far beyond the average human. I can hear everything in this room. If the labs, other floors, and bedrooms weren't soundproof, then I'd be able to hear them too. Your heartbeat is relatively muffled to my ears, but still largely audible– I could hear you coming since you were in the elevator. Finally, your step pattern and footfalls were not of anyone else here, and my Spider Sense told me you were a stranger. So I was immediately on guard. I didn't even realize I grabbed this knife until I had pointed it at you. In short, I apologize for my actions and I hope you can forgive me."

There was an elongated moment of stillness where Mr. Stranger just stared at him, blinking from the overwhelming information. Bucky chuckled lowly and the two other witnesses remained quiet. Finally, the man stuck his hand out casually, as if he were unfazed by Parker completely evaluating his being.

"Sam Wilson."

The teen took it, "Good morning, my name is Peter Parker." He subconsciously noted that Sam had smoother skin and a medium grip, shaking his hand coolly.

Hours passed and evening came.

 _Knock knock_.

"Come in." Peter called, bookmarking his copy of _Harry Potter_ _and The Prisoner of Azkaban_. Shuri looked up from the blueprints of the duo's next project.

The door opened and Wand poked her head in, "Hey you two, I'm going to make a new recipe for dinner. Do either of you want to help?"

"I'll sit this one out, thanks." Shuri was never good at making dinner foods. Just breakfast foods and sandwiches.

Peter shifted, unsure of whether he should stay with his friend or go and help. The princess locked eyes with him and mouthed 'it's your choice'.

"I'll come and help."

One hour later, everyone sat around the table, three enormous dishes of Nachos in the center. When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Wanda granted Bucky permission to sit on the other side of Peter– keeping a close eye on the two. Both Bruce and Tony were here, the former being even more of a rarity. Pepper managed to take time out of her hectic schedule and join them. Natasha and Clint had just returned from their mission a couple states over, making it one of the shortest missions they've ever been on– only gone for five hours.

Everything was going great. Compliments were being dished out left and right, laughter and chatter filled the air, and people–mainly Clint–were stuffing their faces with Nachos. Peter was in a fantastic mood. Him and Bucky were catching up on what the latter had been doing the past four years.

The only thing that dampened the teen's mood were the Nachos. No– they weren't bad, (they were amazing). They were _pointy_.

You see, Peter's been having trouble eating these past few weeks. An ache on the roof of his mouth has made eating a pain. At first, it wasn't so bad– pressure was the only thing that triggered the sore. Then it had slowly morphed into a constant raw pain. Today, it had been throbbing like mad, making it hard for the Spider to concentrate on anything else. He never said anything though, not wanting to be an inconvenience to these people.

To say the least, the jagged Nachos weren't helping.

On one particular bite, the pointy tip of the chip stabbed him in the most tender part of the sore. Peter hissed loudly and instinctively dropped the chip, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. He tentatively brushed the sore and when he pulled his finger away, he sighed with relief when there was no blood. However, a wave of pain washed over him and Spider curled up in his chair, pressing his tongue to the sore in hopes of it subsiding.

At this point, the table went silent from hearing the hiss and clatter. When they saw Peter drop his head against his knees, his eyes screwed shut, they grew concerned.

"Peter?" Bucky carefully placed his hand on the brunette's back. A groan was his response. "What's wrong, kid?"

"Hurts." He managed to whine out.

"What hurts?" No reply. "C'mon kid, tell me what hurts."

Peter raised his head to meet the man's grey gaze, "My mouth. The top hurts a lot." With that, his head dropped back down and his hand was brought up to cup his cheek.

Bucky frantically looked to Bruce, who was already rushing around the table.

"Peter, I need you to push your chair out to face me." The boy obeyed and sat staring numbly at the doctor. "Can you tilt your head back and open your mouth?"

When that was done, Bruce pulled out a mini flashlight and latex gloves from who-knows-where. "I'm going to need to touch your mouth, okay? It'll hurt but it won't be for long" Peter nodded wordlessly, his mouth still wide open.

Dr. Banner crouched a little and began inspecting the Spider's mouth with the flashlight. He looked over the roof and came across two very swollen pouches of skin behind his fangs. They were very red and when Bruce poked them, Peter hissed loudly. After some prodding and pondering, he came to a conclusion.

"I think I found the problem." He muttered and stood up, clicking the flashlight off. "You can sit normally now."

Peter tilted his head forward again and closed his mouth gratefully.

"Peter, you possess venemous properties in your teeth, correct?" Bruce thought back to the scans they took of the boy, remembering something about venom.

"Yes, Dr. Banner."

"Well that confirms it." He adjusted his glasses.

"What?" Clint asked, before the doctor could continue.

"Now, I'm not an expert in human-spider hybrids, but judging by what I know about you and various spiders, it seems that you've produced almost too much venom. Your glands are swollen and tender from the liquid."

"Oh." Was all Peter said, his voice a whisper.

"'Oh' is right. Don't worry, we can do some scans just to make sure. I assume you don't want to keep eating?" Parker shook his head. "Then let's go. The sooner the better. We should be back shortly." He led the boy up the stairs to his lab.

Twenty minutes of pacing-filled time later, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs caused the majority of the group to look up (unless they were already looking).

"So, what's going on?" Bucky asked worriedly.

"As suspected, it appears that Peter never stops producing venom. Ever. All that venom in your glands is doing a lot of damage. How long have you been hurting?" Bruce turned to the doe-eyed teen.

"Around two weeks."

The doctor made a _tsk_ noise of disapproval, causing Peter to shrink and lower his head in shame. Regretting that, he spoke and chose his words carefully, "Don't worry about it. But if this ever happens again, I want you to tell one of us, okay? Another day or two and your glands would burst, that wouldn't be fixable."

"Yes, Dr. Banner."

"Good. Now, to fix the problem. Shouldn't be so hard." He muttered, pacing and running his left hand through his greying curls. The scientist swiftly turned to Peter when an idea struck, "How does your venom work? What do you know about it? Tell me everything. FRIDAY, take notes for me."

" _Yes, Dr. Green Rage Monster_." She replied obediently.

He took a deep breath and ignored the throbbing in his mouth, "Well, I've used it on a few things. Mostly humans. From what I know, my venom only works on things I can sink my teeth into. That might sound obvious but the thing is, I can spray it too. Only up to six feet though. Anyway, yeah, it only works on things I can sink my teeth into. So–and I'm going to assume here–food, cushions, humans, wood if it's weak enough or rotting, those kinds of things. But if it's stone, certain types of metal, the ground, wood if it's super condensed, or other very solid objects, it doesn't work. When I bite into the 'sinkable' things and inject the venom, it'll just begin to disintegrate it. However much it melts depends on how much I use.

"Spraying it works like that too. If I spray it at one of the 'unsinkable' things, it'll only stain it. Unless I use a lot, then it'll very slowly eat away at it. For the 'sinkable' things, it'll also begin to disintegrate it quickly. However much it eats away depends on how much I use– just like my bite." Peter finished with a sigh of relief, his mouth aching from all the talking.

"Fascinating." Tony and Bruce commented at the same time.

"Did you get all that, FRIDAY?" Banner asked.

" _Of course, Dr_."

"So you can control how much you inject?" Shuri questioned.

"Yes."

"And... How much does it take to kill a human?" Sam was–surprisingly–the one who asked that.

"Half a teaspoon is more than enough." He replied confidently, but ended up whimpering at the end due to pain. Bucky rushed over and began reassuring him in hushed Russian.

"Well damn, okay." Clint exclaimed under his breath. Natasha let out a low whistle and Sam, a nervous laugh.

"Hmm... If that little can kill someone..." Bruce trailed off, not finishing the thought. "Peter, can your venom harm you?"

"Yes, it can. I tried biting myself once and I felt extremely sick for days, the symptoms were, well, bad. If I spray it on myself, it just takes away some flesh until I bleed, rather than until it shows bone. It's not nearly as bad as against other people."

"If you used the same amount of venom to kill a human on an apple, it'd just bleed through and burn your hand. But if..." At this point, Dr. Banner was talking to himself, deep in thought about theories and experiments.

"Dr. Banner, are you still with us?" Wanda asked, waving her hand in attempt to snap the doctor out of his thoughts.

"Clint," The curly-haired man abruptly turned to face the archer, "I need you and Pietro to go to the nearest grocery store and buy a crate of apples. Or any other fruit, for that matter. Just a crate of fruit in general. Apples was my first thought." He tacked on the last few sentences as an afterthought. The two men nodded and headed off to their rooms, reappearing minutes later with coats and shoes on, then entering the elevator.

"Tony, do you have any reinforced metal buckets?" Bruce asked.

"That's a weird request, green bean, but yeah, I sure do."

"Go get one."

Tony climbed the stairs and entered his lab, then came back with a large, and very thick, steel bucket in his grasp. He set it down with a resounding clunk.

"Now, we wait."

To pass the time (and distract from the pain), Shuri, Bucky, and Peter watched vine compilations on the TV. The others stood around or sat at the table, chatting about whatever.

When the soft _ding_ of the elevator sounded, a blanket of relief fell over everyone– especially Spider.

"We bought a crate of apples _and_ a crate of peaches, just in case you wanted options." Clint announced with a grin as he and Pietro set the crates down on the counter.

"Thank you. Alright Peter, do with them what you will." Bruce exclaimed enthusiastically, excited for all the research he'll get out of this.

Peter cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"He means that you can inject your venom into those fruit so you feel better." Shuri interjected, also restless to get information.

Spider's mouth formed a small 'O' and he got up from the couch to claim his fruit. He picked up a shiny blood-red apple and lifted it to his mouth. Right before he took a bite, Bruce interrupted him.

"Wait! The bucket. Put it underneath so if your venom drips, it doesn't ruin the floor."

He nodded and stood over the bucket, many gazes following bus every movement. Everybody formed a circle around him and he felt... almost _intimidated_. Kind of like a bug under a microscope. Shaking off the feeling of uneasiness, Peter bit into the apple and swiftly pulled his head away, holding the fruit above the bucket.

They watched in amazement as the apple began to bubble from the inside-out with a dark eggplant-mahogany liquid. In a matter of seconds, the apple turned into the dark liquid and seeped right through Spider's fingers, into the bucket.

"Fascinating." Bruce murmured from beside Shuri, the two taking notes on a hologram.

Peter did this to three more before changing it up a little. Deciding to experiment, the spider sunk his teeth in as usual, but didn't pull out immediately. Instead, he stayed long enough to get a taste, then retracted. He ended regretting that action because he coughed and spluttered with disgust, dropping the light red sphere in the bucket.

"What's wrong?" Natasha spoke for the first time.

"N-nothing. I just decided to taste the apple mixed with my venom and it's _disgusting_." He hacked out, spitting into the bucket in an attempt to get rid of the flavour.

"What does it taste like?" Pietro asked curiously, an eyebrow raised for effect.

"Apples mixed with vinegar and a hint of parsley... Or maybe onion and pickle– that sounds more accurate."

"Blegh. Sounds awful." Wanda scrunched her face in disgust.

After that, Peter continued the first apple-melting over and over. It was old news to him– even though he had never done it on an apple before. But to everyone else, it was like a new thing every time.

"Peter, I want to try something." Shuri called with a mischievous grin.

He shrugged, "Of course, Shuri."

"How well can you aim your venom?"

"Well enough. I've done target practice, though not for a few months." He confessed.

"That'll do." The princess strutted over and searched the crate for the largest apple she could find. When she got her hands on a relatively big one, she called Steve over.

"Bring this over there." Her finger was pointing to a spot in the room with nothing around it. Rogers obliged and picked up the metal container with ease, placing it on the designated area gently.

"Peter, I want you to try and shoot this apple out of mid-air. Think you can manage?"

"Yes, of course." Peter couldn't help the smile spreading on his face. Now _this_ was fun.

"Clint, you throw it. You have good aim."

"What!? I'm not throwing it at _him_. I can't control _his_ aim!" The archer protested.

"Stop arguing." She shoved the apple into his hand and stood off to the side.

All the man could do was groan and stand nervously next to the bucket.

"Ready, Peter?"

"Ready, Mr. Barton." He confirmed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shuri giddily turn on the camera, Bucky smirk, Sam and Steve whisper about a bet, Natasha look stone-faced, the twins watch attentively, Bruce and Tony theorize about something, Pepper shake her head and smile, and Vision being intrigued yet confused.

Everything happened slow motion.

The apple was released from Clint's grip and it spun upwards. Peter tilted his head back and sprung his jaw open wide with inhuman speed. Venom sprayed out of the glands behind the tip of his fangs. It shot through the air and splashed onto the apple, some of it dripping into the bucket and the rest latching on.

Everyone saw in amazement at how the apple literally _melted out of the air_. It fizzed and turned into a mix of dark, gooey venom and light, golden apple juice. The venom ate away at the outside, dripping quickly into the bucket. Only the very center of the core remained intact as the fruit oozed into the container. When the core dropped down, it quickly dissolved along with the rest of the liquid.

Peter licked the remaining droplets of venom off his fangs, wincing when it slightly burned him.

Nobody spoke. Their mouths were too busy gaping like codfish.

"That was dope." Shuri concluded, straight-faced and still lost in the moment.

"How the hell–?" Clint began. Natasha whispered 'Language' and earned an exasperated look from Steve. The female assassin smiled and bowed her head, playfully avoiding his gaze.

"It melted out of the air..." Pepper trailed off breathlessly.

"Wow." Steve nodded his head in approval.

"That was incredible." Pietro commented, still staring at the bucket where you could see the last of the venom fizzling away with a hiss.

Tony let out a 'huh' noise and stroked his goatee, murmuring something to his science bro.

"Quite impressive." Vision complimented.

"Yeah that was cool but did you see his _jaw_?" Sam looked like he was freaking out. "That was some voodoo shit right there."

It's true, Peter's jaw was capable of opening very wide. However, unlike a snake, who can unhinge its jaw to fit its prey, Spider's only opens a few centimeters wider than the average human. It merely looks like he's unhinging his jaw at a quick glance.

Various compliments, comments, and scientific discussions were heard throughout the group. Peter didn't care though. He just kept dissolving the apples the normal way.

Minutes ticked by slowly and when he was down to only three apples left, Parker had little venom left to dispose. Might as well keep the rest just incase. Aside from finishing that, he was awfully tired. Who knew releasing so much of the stuff could make him feel sleepy?

They all had settled down and basically resumed the meal. (Bruce, Tony, and Shuri had snuck off to the labs though). As Spider slowly consumed his Nachos, he felt his head go heavy with exhaustion. His eyelids drooped and his limbs went weak. The sound of his Nacho clattering against his plate went unnoticed by him, but not by the others. His vision turned fuzzy as he struggled to keep his doe eyes open. A big yawn erupted from his mouth and he felt his chair being dragged backwards.

"C'mon, kid, let's get you to bed." That sounded like Soldier. Instinctively, Peter brought his arms up and made weak grabby-hands at wherever the voice was coming from.

Two strong arms lifted him up bridal-style and hauled him away. All of a sudden, he was placed on the cushiony surface if his bed. A thin blanket was covering most of his body.

"I'm across the hall if you need me." Bucky informed with a soft smile, a stark contrast to the usual stone-faced, sharp lines of his face. The soldier reluctantly turned and shuffled towards the door.

Peter made a noise of acknowledgment. Lights clicked off and right before the door shut, he could hear a faint,

"Goodnight, kid."


	25. Ch 24-Getting better

**3rd POV**

Peter was getting better. A lot better. Sure, he still had nightmares, panic attacks, PTSD, trauma, etc... But he was getting better in the sense that he was behaving more _normal_.

(Just to note; It's been a week since the little apple experiment).

They've slowly expanded his stomach to eat almost enough to feed his high metabolism. He's filled out a lot more, that's for sure. Spider went from thin, pale, fragile-looking and hollow, to supple, lean, sturdy, and muscly but lanky. His hair is no longer greasy, but very soft and curly. He hasn't had a haircut in a long time so it's at the point where you can tie it up or even make tiny braids. (Basically, Peter's a lot healthier than he used to be).

By studying other's behaviours and body language, Peter has started to adapt how to be more normal. He's learned that lounging on the couch and doing nothing is fine. That you're allowed to make snacks when you feel hungry (especially with his metabolism). That you should do laundry and are expected to clean up after yourself. That you can chat freely with people as long as they're not busy/going somewhere. Y'know, _things like that_.

Asking questions and speaking when not spoken to is _OK_ – though that can still sometimes be a challenge. Elevators remain an issue– not so bad though. The biggest challenge by far is knowing that he can do what he wants, when he wants (provided that he follows the rules and doesn't do anything bad). He has free will, and that's a not such an easy concept for him. But the other's are patient with letting him decide things for himself. And for that, he is eternally grateful.

Trusting people remains problematic. He trusts Wanda enough to get within a few centimeters of him, sometimes even touching him when he feels safe enough.

As for Shuri, well... Two days ago, he let Shuri do the unexpected, resulting him trusting her a lot more.

_Peter and Shuri sat in the lab, working on their latest project, The Winner Takes it All by ABBA was playing in the background. Their project was an umbrella that could fold down to the size of a pinkie finger, enabling it to go in a pocket. Normally, Mr. Stark would be with them, but him, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, Ms. Romanoff, and Mr. Barton were out on a two-day mission in Austria._

_Shuri was busy writing down some equations and looking over measurements on the blueprints, while Peter paced around a big hologram showing the open Umbrella._

_Suddenly, Spider heard the pencil-scratching stop for more than ten seconds at a time. When he looked up, he saw Shuri bite her lip nervously. That's not something she's ever really done before. Intrigued, the honey-eyed boy studied her body language. She was hunched over slightly and her right hand fiddled with the pencil, tapping it against the table repeatedly. Her other hand strummed against her thigh. Peter didn't know why she was nervous, but that only made him all the more curious._

_"Peter, I have something I want to test out with you." The Royal teen said while slowly standing up, her eyes darting around anywhere but Peter._

_"Yeah, sure. What is it?" He didn't really know what to do at the moment. People weren't usually nervous around him unless he was going to kill them, and he knew that she knew that that wasn't the case._

_"I just– I need you to trust me right now, okay?"_

_With that, his curiosity, as well as concern, peaked, "Yeah, I– uh, I think I can do that."_

_The princess turned to face Peter and began approaching him with care, like he were a wild Lion she randomly came across. When she stood a foot in front of him, she drew a deep, shaky breath and looked him the eyes, whispering 'I won't hurt you, I promise'._

_Spider_ _then found himself wrapped in her embrace. Shuri held him closely and her chin rested on his shoulder. At first, he couldn't fathom what was happening. But when he heard her wavering breaths and quickened heartbeat, he seemed to melt into her arms, anxious for her to realize that it's okay._

 _This felt right. It felt good, and perfect, and just what he needed. Safe, secure, warm. He pushed away the part of his mind that still screamed for him to shove her away. The teen hugged her back, furiously retaliating against any sort of mistrust HYDRA caused._ I can do this. I can be normal. I won't be who I was. I won't let them control me _, Spider repeated to himself._

_Peter was barely conscious of the tears that leaked from his eyes because he just didn't care about that. All he wanted was this warmth. When she pulled away with a soft smile, his heart felt... Hungry for the hug to come back... Hollow because of how much he missed it._

_Peter would later learn that this weird feeling was called 'touch-starved'. Since living (nearly) thirteen years without it, he really needed to catch up on all the touches that he missed._

_After that, he trusted Shuri a whole lot more._

Peter's trust in Pietro is fine, though the older male is cautious and keeps his distance anyway, never pushing to be in Peter's space. There are still some... Trust _issues_ with Bucky, but he's allowed to touch Spider on some occasions. The others aren't quite there yet, despite how much he wishes his mind could just feel safe with them. But he's doing better.

In fact, he's been doing so much better that he can now spend time with Bucky. Of course, there has to be some supervision just in case, but it doesn't really matter to them. Peter's learned to push away HYDRA's control. Every time he feels like giving in, he reminds himself that he's finally found the reason he didn't give up the past four years. And then he feels better.

It never flies over his head how Bucky is only comfortable with _him_ near his metal arm. Peter quickly observed that wherever Bucky sits in a social situation, he's positioned so the nobody can sit on his left side (unless it's the head of a table). Whether it's at the dinner table or couch, nobody sits on his left. The teen has also noticed that everybody else easily lets him sits the way he does. They either make room or move without a thought– like it's second nature. It's as if a sea parts around him where he goes. Even Steve, Sam, and Natasha–who all seem very close and comfortable with him–do these things. But for Peter? Nope. Peter's allowed to stay close. Peter can sit on his left side. Peter doesn't have to move for him, (though he usually does anyway because of adapting to everyone else's behaviours). When he asked Soldier about this, he got a simple shrug in return. So, Peter, being the nervous, unsure, not-feeling-worthy-of-people person, receives an odd sense of pride in these things.

Or when he calls Bucky 'Soldier' and the man is fine, but when Clint did it, he received a glare. What's up with that?

_Clint, Peter, and Bucky sat in the living room, Shuri in her room calling her brother. The two ex-assassins were talking and watching the archer play a heated game of Duel in Wii Sports Resort._

_"Soldier, so it's true that Steve fell out of a tree because he thought he could climb high enough to touch a rainbow? And he broke his leg?" Peter asked with a mischievous smile._

_Bucky grinned back._

_Clint perked up, "Tell us Soldier, is it true?"_

_Bucky stiffened immediately. His fist were clenched right, knuckles turning white. Slowly, the man turned around to face Clint, eyes dark and murderous, his lips curled back menacingly, "Don't call me that."_

_Barton was, to say the least, terrified. He gulped and nodded, quickly turning back to his video game._

_"Why is it that he can't call you 'Soldier' but I can? Or am I secretly not supposed to?"_

_Barnes sighed heavily, thinking about his answer, "You can call me 'Soldier', all you want. I guess it's because when you call me Soldier, I'm reminded of the only good part when I was at HYDRA. It's the name you always called me, so it only feels right comin' outta your mouth. But when they say it, it's more like they're remindin' me of what I've done, and I ain't proud of that."_

_"So I can keep calling you that?"_

_"'Course."_

Another thing he's learned is how to navigate this place in more than one aspect. Literally navigating isn't hard at all. There's only really five places he goes, (living room, kitchen, the lab, hallway, and two bedrooms/bathrooms). But we're talking about navigating in the sense that there are new _objects_ here. Objects that he has never touched, seen, or rarely heard of before this past month and a half. The week and a half had been minutely hectic. Not knowing how much strength to use when holding, touching, and using things was frustrating. Glasses and plates were shattered in the first few days (he rapidly learned to control himself in these cases). Utensils and other kitchen tools were bent in the first two weeks. Peter broke a few Discs that were, thankfully, replaceable. He cracked a chair when pulling it out to sit down one day. Two doorknobs were broken, as well as three doors ripped off their hinges. Faucets, toiletries, blankets, pillows, a lamp, the shower head, various lab tech, and other things were broken in the first week. Peter got himself under control after two weeks, but was left with regret and shame. Nowadays, when he accidentally puts just _a little too much pressure_ and something breaks (or cracks), all he can do is sigh in horror and exasperation. Then, whoever is with him will just laugh and help him clean it up. (He's surprised he managed to eat dinner the first time without breaking anything).

Thanks to Shuri, he's been cultured. Sort-of. ...It's a work in progress. Peter has learned the ins and outs of Gen-Z lingo. He knows words like low-key, extra, tea, lit, woke, fam, garbage, etc... He's comfortable using those words with Shuri and Shuri only. Memes are definitely more challenging to comprehend. Of course, he knows every single Vine there is, however, he still lacks a ton of media-based knowledge. Peter is currently learning about things like Damn Daniel, Drake's views, Mannequin Challenge, Evil Kermit, and other meme icons of 2016– though they're not such a simple concept for him. So far, they've covered 2000s and early 2010s-based memes/icons, but now the current year is their focus. **(I did my research to make sure all these memes and stuff were accurate to 2016).**

Music is like fuel for him. It gives him life. Any kind of music. Whether it's Musicals or Rock. Anything from sad songs to upbeat tunes. 1920s to 2010s. Peter's down for just about anything. He does, however, have one preference. The teen prefers songs with lyrics to them, not instrumental stuff like most songs from the 19th century and before. One of the main reasons he loves music so much is because it can express things that he can't. Peter doesn't know how to express all these new and confusing emotions. They're way too complicated. But music? It can say and mean so many different things that he's feeling all at once AND make it into a melody. The honey-eyed boy listens to all the songs that express what he can't. It's one of the best things in the world. Sometimes, when Shuri asks how he is, he gives her a song title and she'll just nod in understanding.

When nobody–except Shuri because this part isn't relevant to her–is around, he'll sing along to whatever song is playing (there's always a song playing when no one is around). Fun fact; Spider sings loudest when in the shower. He doesn't sing around other people because he likes to think that this is _his_ thing. Something that wasn't exactly shown to him. Something that he is able to discover without the help of somebody else. He finally gets to enjoy something on his own.

To Shuri's surprise, he has an amazing voice. She thought it'd be rough and out of tune since he hasn't talked much or heard music before. In fact, it's the opposite. It's sweet, full, and only a little gravely– but that's part of the charm. Like a mix between Kurt Hummel and Harry Styles. To her not surprise, his voice can go high. And she means _high_. It doesn't go very low (also to her not surprise). Honestly, the princess doesn't bother singing along because it'll one; just ruin the sound, and two; she doesn't want him to stop because it's amazing enough that he sings around her. Shuri often secretly takes videos and puts them in a personal file that only she has access to. That way, she can go back later and listen all she wants. Peter's singing talent is their little secret.

Today, Shuri decided that she wanted to teach Peter a fun game.

"Confirm that you know the rules of Nerf Battle 1v1. And that you know the territory."

"I confirm that I know the rules of Nerf Battle 1v1. And that I know the territory."

"Good. Three-minute grace period to find a position. FRIDAY will alert us when it begins."

"Right." With that, the two teens went their separate ways, Peter to the labs and Shuri to her room. Most of the others knew what was going on so they let the two be, ready to watch the game unfold with amusement.

" _The game begins now_." FRIDAY announced to everyone.

After a few minutes of nothing happening, Peter snuck through the lab and began his descent from the stairs. Spider was careful that he stayed in the shadows and that his footfalls were completely and utterly silent. He saw a flash of a red jacket go from the elevator to the kitchen. The person–Shuri–began to slowly emerge from the kitchen. She hadn't seen him yet. With ease, he maneuvered around where she was hidden underneath the table. A few light snickers erupted from where Clint, Natasha, Sam, and Steve sat on the couches, taking a pause from their game of Settlers of Catan.

When Peter slid behind the breakfast bar, out of sight from Shuri's point of view, the princess hesitantly emerged from her hiding place. The spider ducked down behind the counter. Shuri's eyes darted around wildly, scanning the area for any signs of her friend. When all she found were the four heroes–now with Pietro because he decided to take a break from his schoolwork–she sighed in relief. With a cautious shuffle, she sluggishly made her way towards the stairs to the labs. However, halfway there, a figure rushed past her, slapping the gun out of her hands. It fell to the floor beside her right foot with a loud clatter. When she realized what just happened, Peter was standing at the foot of the stairs (looking very professional aside from the Nerf gun), his gun pointed right at her.

Shuri broke the silence with a breathy laugh, then with a straight face, she quoted, "'Shoot me'."

A flicker of recognition flashed in Peter's eyes and his lips quirked up in a smile momentarily. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, his eyebrows furrowed and he hesitantly lowered the gun, looking torn between something. Shuri watched in confusion as he relaxed stood normally, his gun now pointing lazily at the floor. Apparently, the others were confused too– aside from Natasha because she was smiling knowingly.

"Peter, you okay dude?" The royal girl asked, her head tilted to the side a little. "You could just shoot me and win, you know that, right?"

"I'm afraid that's the issue. It goes against my orders. My mission is to protect you from any and all danger at all costs. Even if that danger includes me. That means I can't shoot you and win this game since the bullets hurt– I've tried them out on myself. So, with my most sincere of apologies, I'm sorry I ruined the game. Maybe we could do something else to make up for it." He informed politely, dropping the gun and kicking it so it slid right to her feet.

"Oh." Was all she managed. Then she began to laugh, "I'm sorry Peter, I totally forgot about your orders." Shuri approached him and slowly pulled him into a hug. At first, he was tense, but then relaxed enough to hug her back. "How about we go watch Shrek 2 instead?"

That night, Peter had a terrible nightmare.

_Peter was being held back by HYDRA agents as he was forced to watch Bucky be taken away from him over and over. No amount of kicking, screaming, or crying helped. It just happened over and over and over. Each time felt worse than the last, like a knife to the heart, because he knew he wouldn't come back this time._

_Eventually, the dream shifted and he was dragged to where they had presumably taken Bucky. The man was bound to the floor by chains and there was a cloth in his mouth. Spider tried to run up to his friend but was harshly tugged back by a rope around his neck that he wasn't previously aware was there._

_Once they had shoved Peter to the floor, his head facing his friend, an agent spoke._

_"This is what happens when you get comfy with anyone."_

_Spider heard Soldier calling something muffled to him but he didn't understand. Peter screamed when he saw the agent push the barrel of a gun to his friend's head._

_"Soldier! Soldier please. Please don't kill him. I'll do anything you ask! Anything. Just don't kill him!" He choked out between sobs, tears blurring his vision._

_A gunshot echoed and Bucky's muffled cries ceased._

Peter woke up with a broken scream, tears flowing like Niagara Falls down his face and onto the sweat-soaked sheets. He was sitting up, legs tangled in a mess of cloth. The teen wasn't one-hundred percent sure where he was yet, but he knew there were a lot of pent-up emotions right now.

Wiping the sweat of his brow, he shot up and off the bed in a daze. As he was rushing to get up, the still-twisted sheets caused him to trip over himself and nearly crash into the bookshelf. Quickly catching himself, he stood up and just as quickly untangled himself.

Peter heard a quiet pair of footsteps pad sluggishly out of the room over. Instead of registering them as Wanda's, he thought they were a HYDRA agent's. _Punishment. I need to punish myself_. He wasn't exactly sure why he was thinking this, but it seemed logical enough. The still-half-asleep boy unsteadily stumbled towards the bathroom door, the sheets still wrapped around his leg. But right before his hand landed on the doorknob, his thoughts changed and he remembered more of his nightmare.

 _Soldier. I need to find Soldier. Make sure he's safe. He can't be dead. Shouldn't to punish myself. That's what they said_. Spider whipped around to the bedroom door and wrenched it open, currently not worrying about how he just tore it off its hinges loudly. He barely registered that both Shuri and Wanda were standing outside of his room looking groggy but moderately alarmed.

"Go back to sleep, 'm fine." The curly-haired teen slurred out, eyes fixed on the door across his.

Both female teens exchanged looks and backed away, but didn't go back to sleep yet. They needed to make sure that their friend was okay. Peter, still dragging his sheets behind him, knocked impatiently on Bucky's door. He tried wiping away his tears while waiting but they kept coming. After a few seconds, a muffled call came from the room and he heard his friend move around, approaching the door quickly.The door opened to reveal a shirtless, sweatpants-clad Bucky looking very awake and also very concerned.

"Kid? What's–"

"Oh thank gosh you're okay. You're alive..." Spider kept repeating those two words as he hugged the older man, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Yeah I'm alive. I'm okay. What's wrong? What happened?" Barnes murmured, rubbing soothing circles on the teen's back. He saw the two girls stand warily at their doors and mouthed 'it's okay, I've got this' while nodding them off. They re-entered their rooms, stealing one last glance at the two.

"Nightmare. You left then died." Peter began crying hysterically again, memories of Bucky leaving flooding back to him.

"I promise you I'll do everythin' in my power so that I never have to leave you again. An' I won't die either." He hushed, holding his friend tight while rocking them back and forth in the doorway. "Everything's gonna be okay. Don't you worry, kid."

Peter replied by nuzzling further into his collarbone and sniffing.

"Let's get you back to bed." The ex-assassin bent over and picked up the sheet, draping it back around Spider. He then picked up the boy bridal-style and brought him back into his bed across the hall.

When he was done tucking Peter in all cozy-like, he said goodnight and turned to leave. However, a hand latched around his forearm and stopped him from leaving.

"Don't go." Spider whined, eyes fill glossy with tears.

"I don't think I can stay with you. Safety an' stuff." Bucky had to restrain himself from saying he'd stay because he didn't want anything bad to happen.

"It'll be okay. Please stay. At least until I fall asleep?" It came out like a question. Bucky knew he wouldn't be awake for much longer.

Soldier sighed and gave in, "Fine." Then he crawled into bed and lied down in front of his friend, pulling him close to his chest.

"G'night, Soldier." Spider whispered, barely audible even to him.

"Goodnight, kid." He replied, smiling when the younger's breaths quickly turned into ones of deep sleep. Soon enough, he followed suite, content to stay here for as long as he wanted.


	26. Ch 25-Plummeting water, cat-like affection, and distressing greenery

**WARNING: Tangled spoilers (minor). Swearing. One of his 'episodes'.**

**3rd POV**

_'Like a flower in the desert_

_I had to grow_

_in the cruelest weather,_

_holding onto every drop of rain_

_just to stay alive._

_But it's not enough to survive,_

_I want to bloom_

_beneath the blazing sun_

_and show you all of the colours_

_that live inside me,_

_I want you to see_

_what I can become'_

_-Christy Ann Martin_

Wanda made her way out of her room, planning to check on how Peter was doing. He seemed pretty shaken up the night before– crying and breaking doors. When she got to his room, she noticed that the door was ripped clean off its hinges, laying discarded half-against the chipped dresser. She didn't notice that the night before. Natasha was leaning in the doorway and she pressed a well-manicured finger to her lips, the other hand pointing inside the room.

Popping her head around the corner, Wanda couldn't help but coo in awe when she saw Peter and Bucky in the bed. Barnes was on his back, Parker clinging onto his side like a Koala, leeching off of his warmth. Soldier had his metal arm secure around the teen's shoulders. His other arm was loosely holding onto the teen's waist. Hair was messy and tangled, framing their faces effortlessly. Sheets were tangled at their waists, laying half-off the bed. Pale sunlight shone through the half-opened curtains, illuminating the two boys–mostly Peter–in soft, glowing light. A cool breeze from the cracked open windows unwelcoming-ly drifted around the room, causing a chill.

It was certainly a sight to behold.

"So, you plan on standin' around and gawkin' all day?" Bucky's rough morning voice asked from behind Peter's curls. His eyes were cracked open, staring at the two ladies with emotionless intensity. He instinctively tightened his grip on Spider.

 _Shit_. Wanda could've sworn he was asleep.

"Well this isn't exactly your morning routine now is it?" Natasha looked indifferent, then smirked and strode away.

"Sorry." Wanda muttered, then hurried away, almost tripping over her feet in eagerness to escape the man's cold, distant gaze. When they were gone, Bucky's eyelids slid closed again, but he never fell back asleep.

Peter woke from his dreamless sleep feeling wonderfully well-rested. He hadn't gotten that good of a sleep in, well, probably since the day he got here and was forcefully put under with anesthesia. He felt a Lukewarm arm with a hint of chilliness wrapped stiffly around his shoulders. There was a handful of heat radiating onto his waist and even more from the body underneath him, yet he was still a little cool. Wait... Arm? Waist? _Body?_ His eyelids fluttered open wildly, brown orbs eventually focusing on the bookshelf in front of him. Spider started panicking, breath quickening and eyes darting around. He began squirming to get out of the person's grasp.

"Shh, shh. Relax, kid. You're okay. You're okay." Bucky's gravely voice hushed from above him, hands beginning to rub soothing circles on the younger's back.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief and gradually relaxed into his friend's body heat, "M'sorry. Good morning, Soldier."

"Mornin', kid."

Twenty minutes of tranquility passed, both of them completely at peace.

"FRIDAY, what time is it?" Peter asked, realizing that he wasn't sure if he woke up at the usual time.

" _It is currently 8:34am._ " The AI responded dutifully.

"What!?" Spider shot up, causing his human pillow to grunt in surprise and protest. "I should have been up an hour and nineteen minutes ago." He exclaimed with an undertone of whining, shivering violently at the lack of heat (since the covers fell off and Bucky was forced to let go of him).

"I was plannin' on lettin' you sleep in. You looked like you needed it last night. You're awake might as well get ready and make you some breakfast." Bucky was still partially blissed-out and didn't want to move, but sat up anyway because he was growing starved.

Peter didn't say anything. Just nodded and shivered again when a particularly cold breeze rushed into the room. He noted the sharp smell of cold in the air, followed by a mull of precipitation.

"FRIDAY, close the windows. I'm gonna go get ready. See you in the kitchen, kid." He waved off and turned, lumbering out of the room while trying to literally wipe away the morning-esque haze from his face.

The windows closed faithfully and the brisk breeze ceased, causing the now-alone teen to elicit an unheard 'thank you'. Peter opened the curtains–almost regretting said decision–then went and had a quick, toasty shower, (singing two songs from The Sound of Music while doing so). Afterwards, he got dressed– like any sane person would. He pulled on a pair of onyx leggings that _were_ Natasha's, a simple black long-sleeve that was also Nat's, and an old baby blue hoodie with a pattern of whales on it from Pietro. He took a moment to briefly comb through his long, disheveled hair, then stepped past the discarded door and out the hall.

Following the smell of bacon and eggs, Peter gingerly descended the stairs and into the common room, a rare, large smile on his face. At the table was Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Tony. Rhodey sat at the bar. (Peter met Rhodey in a civilized manner a few days prior). Bucky was in the kitchen, Shuri was talking with Tony from where she sat at the breakfast bar, and Wanda was flipping through channels on the couch. The only people missing were Pietro, Bruce and Vision (and Pepper). In the distance outside the window, Peter spotted monstrous dark clouds approaching rapidly. He's seen these clouds a few times before when it rained lightly but they've never been this ominous– and _huge_. Rain was on its way, that's for sure. Other that that, pale beams of sunlight cascaded down into the common room, enlightening everything in their path.

"You look like the cat that got the cream." Steve commented, with an amused smile, from the rim of his scalding coffee cup.

Shuri looked up, eyes dancing with something playful, "Hey, Peter. Sleep well?"

"Morning everyone." He turned to Shuri, "'Oh sorry, I fell asleep while waitin' on you to make me a sandwich'."

She laughed freely, "'Go back to sleep and starve'. Okay, now what's with the grin?"

"I don't think I've ever gotten that good of a sleep in a long time." He replied with a satisfied grin as he neared the breakfast bar, slipping into the chair beside Shuri.

Steve, Natasha, Shuri, and Wanda smirked knowingly but kept their mouths sealed shut. Tony probably knew something but didn't show it. And Bucky was oblivious as he prepared a ham & cheese omelette.

"How do you feel?" The princess asked, taking a sizeable bite of her Lucky Charms.

Peter's mind subconsciously flitted through his arsenal of songs, "Like _Dancing Queen_ by _ABBA_ with a pinch of _Silhouette_ by _Owl City_." (Okay, yes, Silhouette isn't a happy song. But there's always going to be a part of Spider that's sad).

Shuri smiled in understanding and happiness for her friend while Peter gobbled up enormous ham & cheese omelette.

The rest of the morning went by quickly. Peter reattached his door without any trouble, and both teens finished the micro-umbrella with triumph. It could successfully fold small enough to fit in your pocket. The umbrella was completely water resistant and could expand to fit up to three people. Shuri added a last-minute feature so that it could heat up– good for being stuck in really cold rain _and_ for drying itself off.

When the ashy-grey clouds grew closer, bringing rain in their wake, the two geniuses knew that they completed the umbrella just in time. Rain came down steadily, not nearly at a pouring point yet. Peter watched from the couch in awe as the city was enveloped in plummeting water. He's seen rain before, but never this much.

Suddenly, a memory struck him.

_"Is the world pretty?" Peter asked in a small voice, curled up in the corner._

_Bucky replied from where he was lying with his eyes closed on the floor. He never hesitated in giving his answer, "It's beautiful. Can't even begin to describe it."_

_"What are your favourite parts about it?"_

_"[...] The rain is amazing too. Most people hate it though. Not me."_

_"Why do people hate rain?"_

_"Have you ever been in rain?"_

_"No. [...]."_

_"Jeez. Can't believe you haven't been in rain. One of the best things in the world. People hate rain 'cause it soaks 'em [...]."_

_"Rain is water that falls from the sky, right?"_

_"Yep. That's right. Sometimes it's a lot. Sometimes it's only a little. Plenty of people avoid it when possible. I don't. I think it's nice. My mama always told me that rain meant the heavens were crying."_

_"Why would they be crying?"_

_"'Cause the world is broken and they can't fix it. They get sad when bad things happen. Sure, the world is pretty, but it's also corrupt." Bucky exhaled sharply and continued, "Y'know, Stevie used to hate rain."_

_"Really?"_

_"Mhm. Always caught colds after gettin' soaked. Never understood why I loved it so much. When the war happened, we both got soaked a lot more. Rain makes mud, too. Wasn't very pleasant. Stevie just ended up hating rain even more. Eventually, I didn't like it so much. I got annoyed by it and decided to not go out unless I had to. But now," the soldier took a deep, reminiscing breath, "I miss rain more than I could ever imagine. Miss all the little pitter-patter noises it made when it bounced off the ground. Miss how everything was shiny after a good downpour. Miss the puddles to splash in and the way cars sprayed the water everywhere. It's lots of fun."_

_Spider closed his eyes and imagined water pouring from the heavens. It sounded weird but nice at the same time._

_..._

_"[...]" ... "When we get outta here, I'll take you to see the prettiest sunrise in New York, how bout that? And if it rains, then we'll stay out and let the rain soak us to the skin."_

"Soldier." He drawled, still staring at the water outside, watching the slow raindrops race down the windows.

Sergeant Barnes hummed in acknowledgement.

"Soldier, it's raining."

"It is." The man looked up to his friend from his book, confused as to why the younger stated the obvious. "Why?"

"You told me about rain once. Remember?" Innocent-looking, wide honey eyes met soft steel-grey.

Bucky concentrated hard, brows furrowed. It hit him. He beamed, "I'm a man of my word."

Barnes put his book down, scooped Parker up, slung him over his shoulder, and hauled him away fireman-carry style. They bid the others a quick farewell– Peter struggling to speak between thrilled giggles. Those of whom in the room that hadn't heard the beginning of the conversation watched them leave with weird expression. New York was expecting pouring rain, thunder, and lightning later– so why go out?

Peter ran out onto the roof, eager to get in the rain. He hesitantly ignored the 'careful' that Bucky called out. Standing in the rain wasn't exactly what he expected. Well... What _did_ he expect? It felt like a cold shower over the entire city. A cold wind nipped ferociously at his face. His hair was thrown around, gradually becoming flatter and flatter with the accumulation of rainwater. The freezing liquid slid into his clothes and made him shiver.

Peter didn't care though. Not for now, at least.

The fifteen year-old closed his eyes, tilted his head up and opened his mouth, happily gathering the falling water in his mouth. After getting a sufficient amount of rain, he moved on to splashing around in the small puddles, a grin set on his face every time the water sprayed around.

Peter could barely hear or smell the cars and people below. It was just a steady pitter-patter of water, and the smell of smooth but powerful water along with the sharp wind. The roof felt so serene and separate from the rest of the city– small, isolated, and safe.

Rain was _fun_ in a... weird way.

Bucky watched Peter in amusement, a gentle smile plastered on his face. He stood by the door, willingly letting the rain unhurriedly soak him to the skin.

Ten minutes went by and Spider settled on sitting on the edge of the building, looking out onto the gloomy city– he could see straight down to the sidewalk, and that made something churn in his stomach with giddy–terrified adrenaline. Soldier sat beside him, but on the roof with his back to the side-wall-thing.

"Why do you think the heavens are crying today?" Peter asked curiously, shivering from the cold.

Bucky took a deep breath, debating on how to answer the question. _He knew how he wanted to but it might not be the correct thing to say. Because you don't deserve the life you got. Because you were forced to live where no child or adult should ever live. Because you couldn't be a normal kid and experience a good childhood. You were forced to do awful, irreversible things that will haunt you forever. You had no parents to love you and no friends to play with. You were stuck with me and I fucking left you._

"Maybe something really bad happened somewhere in New York today." He replied, not voicing his true opinion.

Peter hummed shortly in response, then sneezed.

Bucky looked up at the teen, eyes meeting his flushed skin, shaking figure, and completely soaked clothes that looked uncomfortable clinging to him.

"Let's go inside." The man suggested, just loud enough for Spider to hear over the rain and wind.

Parker let himself be lead away, eyes still staring bleakly at soaked the city before him. The brunette looked completely dull from the weather– creamy brown eyes now glazed over. They got indoors and Bucky covered Peter with one of the towels he set inside the doorway.

"Dry yourself off as much as you can." He instructed, regretting bringing the honey-eyed teen outside because of how frigid he looked. Peter nodded numbly and began blankly drying his face, teeth chattering.

Soldier lifted Spider up, knowing the boy was most likely too frigid to move, and walked down the emergency fire stairs to the floor with their rooms.

"Take a hot shower and wear the warmest clothes you've got. I'll make you some hot cocoa when I'm done my shower." Bucky gently pushed the indifferent teen into his room, then left to do the ordered in his own room.

Peter felt so nice and toasty after his steaming shower. As much as he loved the rain, God, was it cold. After re-applying the bandages he always has around his torso and the ones on his arm from self-harm, Spider scoured his dresser in search of a warm outfit. Eventually, he came across a fluffy dark grey pair of sweats, a plain white long-sleeve, an extremely thick, woolly watermelon-coloured sweater that he ordered online two days ago (it was a bit too big for him and the sleeves hung just past his hands), and a pair of fluffy black socks with lemons on them.

Feeling cozy and warm, he put his soaked clothes in the washing-machine and then padded downstairs.

 _Everybody_ was in the common room. Even Tony (who had to be physically dragged out of his lab by Steve), Bruce, and Vision. _Odd_.

"Uh... W-what's everyone doing here? N-not that that's a problem or anything." He back-tracked, his hands waving in a surrender motion.

"We're taking a day off. There are no missions and the weather is awful. It's the perfect day to binge movies and get all cozy." Natasha replied from where she was bundled up next to Clint, her hands clutching a steamy mug of Orange Pekoe tea.

"Oh... Nice." Was all he came up with as a reply. Silence followed.

"Hey, kid, I made you some hot chocolate." Bucky called, walking toward him with two mugs in his hand, one outstretched.

 _Right. Hot chocolate. Still have no idea what that is. Looks like a drink._ Peter took the mug–which said _'Q: Anyone know any jokes about sodium? A: Na'_ –and sniffed it delicately. Even without smelling it purposely, he could detect a whole lot of chocolate. But now, he could tell that there was some milk too and something... Sweet. Peering into the cup, he saw a light cocoa-brown liquid with floating white-brown cubes that bobbed around slackly.

"Never had hot cocoa before?" Bucky asked the skeptical boy with a chuckle.

"What? You've never– wha–? Hot cocoa–? _Had!?_ " Clint spluttered, mouth agape.

"I'm sorry, but I can't say I have." Spider grimaced, feeling out of place and embarrassed due to his lack of knowledge _yet again_. He tentatively pressed his lips to the mug and took a tiny sip, lurching his back on impact with the liquid. "That's _hot_." The teen exclaimed, tongue burning.

"It's called 'hot chocolate' for a reason." Soldier grinned teasingly and steered Spider toward the couches. "Let's go sit down."

Peter plopped himself down beside Shuri– sitting cross-legged on the end of the couch. The princess aimlessly threw a thick, striped, beige blanket over both of them. Upon looking around, he realized that this was Bucky's spot. (Turns out, the others realized too and were waiting to see what happened).

"Ah, I'm sorry, Soldier. I'll move." Parker blushed in embarrassment and moved to get up, but stopped when a large hand gently pushed him back down by his shoulder.

"Relax, kid. I'll sit on the floor." The metal-armed man reassured, taking a seat in front of the curly-haired teen, his back against the couch. (To the not-very-surprise of others).

Everyone got themselves situated. Tony and Steve sat on the opposite end of the couch from Peter, Shuri, and Bucky. Natasha was beside Tony. Clint was beside Natasha. And Pietro was snuggled into Clint's side. Wanda and Vision took the love seat while Rhodey and Bruce sat in their respective armchairs. Pepper was here too, and she sat in front of Natasha on the floor (mainly so the latter could braid the former's hair). Every single person had a blanket on them, some with multiple. There were even blankets on the floor for those of whom were sitting down there. Pillows sat around haphazardly, offering their sacred, plush comfort.

With the dim, gloomy lighting, bright TV, steamy mugs, and mass of comfort, it made a pretty good pillow-fort-type day.

They flipped through their options, debating on _Tangled_ , _Mulan_ , or _Anastasia_. Rhodey made the final decision of Tangled– one of the two choices that Peter had not seen before.

While waiting for the decision, Peter had begun to comb Bucky's hair. (Who knows where he got the comb– maybe Bucky just always has one on him). It was soft between his fingers–having just finished drying–and it had a pleasant aroma of mangos mixed with vanilla. Shuri, on the other hand, was making tiny braids in Spider's hair next to him.

Flynn Rider's narrating began and the story commenced, explaining all the vital stuff that has happened up until this point in the movie. Peter was, so far, enjoying the movie. It seemed like a logical beginning... sort-of. (There were a few plot holes). What really caught his attention was the first song (and its reprise). Spider knew every song had significance to the plot, so he always made sure to listen real close.

This one was, well, different. It felt too real to him, in a way. In a state of entrancement, the comb slipped out of his hand and Peter was left staring at the TV, mouth wide open.

Peter went through a mental checklist of what he had in common with Rapunzel. Being trapped in one place all your life? Check. Never truly seeing the outside world? Check. Having the same routine every single day? Check. Longing to be where everybody else is? Check. Companion? Half a check. Sure, his life was far different from this girl, but they were still similar when it all comes down to it. In fact, the song brought a reluctant tear to his eye. _It's just a stupid Disney song, so why am I crying?_ Peter thought hotly, it being the first movie he's cried to.

It got a lot worse when Mother Gothel came into the picture. God, did he hate her and her selfish motives. Spider wanted to throw the comb at the TV, but settled on cursing profusely under his breath– to Bucky and Shuri's understanding amusement.

By the end of the movie, he had silent tears leaking from his eyes and was long done braiding Barnes' hair. Once the credits rolled around, they took a break to grab snacks, dutifully not commenting on the caramel-haired adolescent.

 _Tangled_ turned into both his favourite and least favourite movie ever.

That's when _it_ happened.

The medium rain outside swiftly turned into a brutal, _loud_ downpour. Thunder rumbled vehemently for the first time, followed slowly by a bright, blinding flash of lightning. Both Steve and Bucky tensed, their jaws and fists clenched, eyes staring ahead with determined fury. The god-awful weather reminded them of times they wished they could forget...

However, they weren't the only ones reacting to the showers.

Peter flinched back when the first rumble sounded, then shut his eyes with the lightning. His heart sped up significantly, fear pulsing through him like a shockwave. I don't know what's happening. What's going on? What is that? Why is it so loud?

Tears and breaths came quickly, along with an uncontrollable build-up of disorientation and dismay. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to will the awful crescendo of noise and panic away. Just when it felt like everything grew to be too much, the world appeared to go in slow-motion. His now-snail-paced heartbeat thrummed loudly in his ear like a metronome, counting the laggy seconds. The movements of the people around him turned sluggish and looked ungraceful. Each individual splash of rain on the building sounded like a gunshot firing over and over. _Were they his gunshots or his opponent's?_ Every crack of thunder and lighting reminded him of both bombs and whips burning his body. Peter could practically feel heat and ash radiating onto his skin, along with bullets digging into his flesh.

The dark sky was relentlessly pushing down on him just like the concrete from the Vulture Incident. Claustrophobia resurfaced promptly, making his breaths shorter and more ragged. Bodies, flames, falling debris, and weapons were ghostly illusions littering his vision. Missions and victims whirled forcefully in his head like a tornado of regret. The teen flinched at every sound, even if it wasn't the haunting weather. He wanted to howl angrily and punch these feelings away– be stronger. That is until... Voices of agents in his head yelled at him to be _perfect_ and _do better_. And, whatever version of him that was hearing the agents, whimpered and lowered their head like a _good weapon_.

His mind was torn, like it was being split apart at the seams. Half of it went to HYDRA, the other half to the Avengers. Was he the Winter Spider or was he Peter Parker? Was he supposed to assassinate or to protect? Were these people friends or enemies? Does he fight or submit? Was he on a mission or in the tower? _What the hell was happening?_

"Peter, what's going on?" Somebody called, but he couldn't make out who. Tears blurred his vision and his senses were overwhelmed.

Peter saw a bar stool knocked over beside him. Or was it a machine gun? He couldn't tell– the two worlds were clashing violently and he felt utterly helpless.

Blurry people were nearing him in a pile of exploding rubble. Were they agents? Please don't let them be agents. He doesn't want this. He thought he _escaped_ it.

"Who are we talking to?" Another voice asked–female–but closer this time. They were approaching him steadily, but stopped in their tracks at his answer.

"I don't know!" Spider cried out, distressed. Because he didn't know. He honestly didn't know. _Who am I? Who am I really? What am I doing here?_ "I don't know." Was repeated, but came out broken and quiet from the sobs. Peter scrambled back, head down and hidden, avoiding any eye contact like a _proper weapon_.

He felt weak. And alone.

 _Vulnerable_.

That was the word for it. Vulnerable– helpless, scared.

There was no striking urge to harm anyone. Just to be obedient. Good. _Perfect_.

Peter mentally punched that side of him. Repeatedly. _Leave me the hell alone_. It always came back. _Persistent asshole_.

"Winter Spider?" A voice tried. _I-is that Steve?_

"No. No, I can't be– d-don't want to– to be a murderer. I don't w-want to kill anyone else. Please... P-please just get away from me. You can't trust me. I'm a-a killer. You're not safe anymore. Please..." He pleaded between sniffles. Waves of pain shot through his head, trying to get him to succumb, but he fought stubbornly. All the throbbing in his head made him want to scream, but only caused him to clench his jaw with vigor and years of discipline. The boy's sweaty hands shot away from his face to grip the floor, attempting to find a purchase in the real world.

"Peter?"

Whatever side of him that had control in that moment hissed loudly in protest. "Shut _up_. I'm _not_ Peter." A throaty voice growled out, fangs baring as a sort of primal instinct. _Did_ I _say that? Shit– that_ was _me_. Without him realizing it, the strain of Peter's hands against the floor caused the marble to _crack_ with a concerning-ly loud sound. The splitting of the white rock below him was the one snap— the _trigger_ that made him aware of his surroundings.

There were no more bodies or agents. No more rubble. No more weapons. Just him sitting on the floor against the bar and the others forming a loose, wide circle around him as to not crowd him. _Wait, since when did I get here? Am I really here? Is this my imagination? This... This has to be a trick_. Peter didn't want to believe that he was in a safer place.

"Spider?" Wanda tried, dying to use her powers but knowing that she shouldn't.

"M-maybe. I don't– I don't know anymore. I don't know what's _happening_. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't control myself. There's– there's too much." Peter replied with shaky breaths, burying his head in his knees and curling up even tighter against the wall behind him. All the intense build-up of pain caused a throaty scream to be ripped from his lungs, muffled by his knees.

And then it was over.

He won.

His mind calmed like the sea after a storm– peaceful and still.

But his body and mental state did not.

"Soldier?" Peter tiredly asked for his friend– somebody safe, head still pounding intensely. He was shaking with fright and, probably, PTSD.

"Th-that might not be a good idea."

"He's obviously calmed down. Maybe he needs a familiar face?"

"We're all familiar faces!"

"Do you think he'll pass out soon?"

"You get what I'm saying, stupid."

"Look a him, that is not the crying figure of a nearly-asleep person."

"Lan–"

"Not the time. Natasha could be right; a familiar face could help."

"Don't blame me when you get killed."

"What is even happening right now?"

Two conversations were happening right now but Peter couldn't bring himself to pay attention to either of them. All he could feel was the stubborn throbbing in his skull, his raspy, uneven breaths, and the occasional cracks of lightning & thunder that rattled his bones.

Not a single person made a move to go approach him though. They were too wary of what would happen. Whether or not Spider was truly in control now.

Sitting there, exhausted from the episode, Peter felt something in him. A painful squeeze in his heart. A longing for something he's never had. This feeling wasn't new– he's kept it suppressed, knowing it was weakness. But he couldn't bring himself to suppress it now. It was strong and ever-present, nagging him to no end. So, like most of his previous words, this one escaped his lips against his will.

"Mom?"

HYDRA taught him from a very young age that his parents never loved him. That they sold him to them. He believed it. There wasn't any reason not to. At age eight, he learned to push any thoughts of his parents away– it was just weakness. However, now, this craving for his parents made his heart ache and another round of tears well up in his eyes. In this moment, all he wanted was to hug his mom, bury his head in her neck, and cry like a scared little boy.

Nobody knew what to do. How could they? They couldn't fulfill his request or anything similar. They shot somber and frustrated looks at each other, clueless as to how they should approach Peter.

Bucky sighed– it was full of regret. With nervous legs, he neared the still-curled-up teen. The man was unsure what to do, but finally settled on sitting cross-legged in front of him. He took a deep, level breath, "Kid?"

A snivel and a hum was earned in response.

"I'm sorry." He started with an apology, moving to sit with his knees almost touching Spider's.

Peter, without lifting his head, languidly raised his arms and made feeble grabby-hands at the older ex-assassin. Bucky chortled, thinking of when he carried the teen to bed after the venom-thing, and reached over, pulling Peter's tiny form onto his lap with ease. Spider trembled weakly in his arms, mind haunted with fresh memories of his past and tears involuntarily sliding down his cheeks. Bucky hugged the small frame as close as he could, trying to convey one message.

_I'm here._

_I'm here as long as you need me to be. I'll be whoever you want me to be. Whether it's for a day or for forever– I'll be here._

"Why are you sorry?"

"About your parents."

"That's okay. I try not to be sad a-about those kinds of th-things. It's pointless. A-and weak." Peter managed a reassuring–but very shaky–laugh. Bucky frowned, meticulously running his right hand through soft caramel curls in–what he hopes was–comfort.

"It's not weak to want parents."

"I'm sorry." Parker apologized into Barnes' shoulder, not knowing what to say in return. His hands clawed at the older's shirt a few times before settling on balling his fists on his shoulder blades. He sunk graciously into the smell of smoking ice, apples, and dark chocolate.

"You got nothin' to be sorry about."

"But–" A crack of lighting lit up the common room and he stiffened, burying his face impossibly further into his friend's front. Bucky tensed but quickly relaxed in favour of comforting–and looking strong for–the boy.

"Wanna tell me what just happened?"

There was a long pause filled with anticipation and muffled sniffles.

"I don't know. I don't know who I am anymore."

And if that last line didn't hit Bucky in the heart, then who knows what could.

"That's okay." Deep breath. "You don't have to know who you are. Just who you don't want to be."

Peter nodded into his collarbone, "I'm scared." Before Sergeant Barnes could respond, he continued with another subject, "C-can we watch another movie? I don't really want to talk about it."

"'Course. Want me to make you more hot cocoa?"

"Yes, please. Sorry about the floor." He heaved himself up and wiped his tears, eyes trained on the ground to avoid the gazes of the others. Still feeling scared and vulnerable, he couldn't bring himself to let go of Soldier's shirt, so he just followed the man to the kitchen. "M'okay." Was all he offered to the others in reassurance, hoping they would just leave him alone. People–other than Bucky–caring for him wasn't... new anymore. But he still wasn't all that used to it– and sometimes didn't favour it (like now). Worrying faces could be annoying and intimidating and just plain _bizarre_.

Soldier, sensing his discomfort, made a 'shoo-ing' motion to the group, throwing in a complementary glare just to be sure they got the idea. Thankfully, they did, and hurriedly returned to the couch/chairs with passing glances.

When the cocoa-making was done, the two ex-assassins went to sit down. Some people had swapped spots, so now the free spot on the end of the couch was beside Natasha.

"You can sit on the couch this time." Peter mumbled, proceeding to visibly wince at another outcry of thunder.

Bucky rolled his eyes, gently grabbed Peter's arm, and in one swift motion, sat down on the couch with the younger on his lap. Not a single drop of hot chocolate was spilled in the process. Parker squeaked a bit in surprise but ended up relaxing into his friend's warm grasp. A blanket was soon delicately wrapped around him.

They watched two more movies– _Hercules_ (Peter had seen before but still loved it), and _Lady and the Tramp_ (which he hadn't seen before but didn't like as much as the others). During the second one, they had ordered Thai food. (A new but pleasing experience for both Peter and Shuri). Sadly, Shuri had to leave for Oakland and Wakanda after _LatT_ because she had some duties there. She was to return in three days.

Deciding to derail from their ongoing Disney theme, the next movie the group settled on was _Titanic_. Classic.

In the final thirty minutes of the film, Peter began to doze off. Could you blame him? He was full of warm food, hot cocoa, in a safe spot, had a mentally draining episode, and was constantly on edge from the weather that refused to calm down. Spider was curled securely in Bucky's lap, his face buried in the older's collarbone and his feet resting on the arm of the luxurious couch. A big, fluffy, plaid blanket covered the pair (mostly Peter).

He was still semi-conscious, aware of where he was and all the noise, though he couldn't actually decipher the words of neither movie nor people. It honestly felt like a dream–minus the weather–and he never wanted to move.

Without realizing it, a low, silky, rumbling noise gradually made its way from the bottom of his gut to his throat, getting progressively louder by the second. Bucky looked down as soon as he felt the vibrations, barely able to contain his laughter at the realization of what was happening. Peter wasn't conscious of this, but the others definitely were.

"Is– Is he _purring_?" Pepper asked, astonished and barely able to contain her snickers.

"Like a cat?" Rhodey murmured, the same look of shock on his face.

"I don't believe it. Not one bit." Tony remarked in disbelief, peering from around Steve (who was now somehow sitting beside Bucky).

Natasha looked up from where she was sitting on the floor, completely straight-faced, and said, "милый" (T:Cute/nice).

"How is he purring? Is that–" He broke off with a hushed laugh, "Is that a thing that Spiders do?" Bucky asked.

Bruce yawned, eyes trained curiously on the now fast-asleep teen, "Most spiders don't 'purr' per se–hah–but there is a species known as 'purring spiders' who can use their environment to their advantage to broadcast sound. That way, they can detect their prey with vibrations. It's a lot more complex but it's basically purring." He paused, then added on, "I guess Peter is using a similar ability to show content? Exactly like a cat..." **(Guys I had to look that up and there was a picture of the spider. I have Arachnophobia and I almost died).**

"That's–" Pietro stifled a cackle, then pulled out his phone to take a video, "That's _awesome_."

"Think he's asleep?" Steve pondered.

"Dunno. Sure looks like it." Bucky answered, then his eyes widened, "Shit."

"What?"

"Gotta go to the bathroom."

"Just– I don't know. Move him."

"I don't want to wake him up." The assassin retorted with a strong hint of obviousness in his voice.

"I don't think he'll wake up like that. He's way too blissed out." Tony commented.

Bucky internally debated, then carefully stood up with Peter still in his arms. He turned and put the boy down. When his arms had retreated, a quiet, high-pitched whine escaped the teen's mouth, purrs completely ceased. He was now shivering slightly and clawing at the blanket. Soldier felt bad but quickly left for the bathroom, eager to get back.

He returned barely two minutes later, following the sounds of muffled laughter erupt from the couches.

"What's all the–" Bucky cut himself off upon seeing Peter curled–unconscious as ever–under Steve's arm. The blond had a perpetually confused, helpless, and embarrassed look on his face. "What is he doing?"

"Looking for heat."

"Hm?" Bucky turned towards the sound of the voice–Bruce–and hummed in question.

"He's looking for heat." The scientist repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Spiders don't thermoregulate."

"Thermo– what?" Steve asked dumbly.

Tony rolled his eyes and groaned from beside his husband, "Thermo _regulate_. Spiders produce very little of their own body heat. Which means, we can only assume that Peter also produces very little of his own body heat. So, he has to wear more clothes and blankets than average to feel as warm as us. Right now, he's subconsciously looking for warmth– even though he's fast asleep, he gravitates to warmth. It just so happens that he's next to two human furnaces, thanks to your super-serums. Don't take it too personally, Steve." He explained helpfully, closing his eyes towards the end because of how tired he was.

"Oh." Both super soldiers said simultaneously.

There was a long and incredibly awkward moment before Steve spoke up, "So what should I do about this?" He shifted the arm that was still in Peter's grasp.

"Take him off your arm or something. Have Manchurian Candidate over there help you." Stark replied dismissively, his exhaustion causing him to slur his words.

"Easier said than done." Rogers whispered.

Bucky crouched down and began to gently pry Peter away from Steve's grasp. It was challenging, thanks to Spider's iron grip, but manageable. Once done, Peter's hands reached in the direction of Bucky– a new heat source. Barnes lifted him by the waist and before he could sit down with the younger on his lap, the teen's arms wrapped around his neck, followed immediately by his legs around his waist. All done entirely unconscious.

"Warm." The sleeping boy purred, holding on tight to his friend.

Bucky sat down easily with Peter still clinging on. (The latter was quite small in comparison to the former). He draped the same blanket over the boy, making sure to hold it tight so it wouldn't fall. Spider resumed his silky purring, a soft smile playing at his lips. Not a word was uttered as they all went back to the movie.

Rhodey, Pepper, and Natasha went to their own rooms to sleep. Vision just kinda floated away through the wall. Everybody else–except Bucky, who almost never slept–fell asleep not even twenty minutes into _Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure_. FRIDAY snapped a photo (per protocol) and switched over to _Hogan's Heroes_ – something a certain dark-haired ex-assassin enjoyed.

The next day was _sunny_. Any trace of the previous day's heavy rain was _gone_. Barely any clouds sat in the maya blue sky. The weather was 23°C (73.4°F), 40% humidity, and a minor breeze. So... _perfect_. People were buzzing about, cars were honking, planes were flying, pigeons were pooping. It was a great afternoon in Manhatten, New York.

Peter sat in the lab with Mr. Stark, both working on some new Widow Bites for Natasha, when all of a sudden, there's loud knocking on the door. FRIDAY paused the music and they look up to see Bucky standing there, rocking on the balls of his feet in, what _looks_ like, contained excitement.

"Let him in, FRI." Tony says, confused as to why the super soldier was here.

The glass door swings open and Barnes shuffles in awkwardly, feeling out of place with all the science-y tech.

"Thanks. So, kid, I have a bit of a surprise for you."

"C-continue." _A surprise? What kind of surprise? Please, I don't want to go back there_. Peter internally winced at the thought.

"Can I steal him for a few hours?" Bucky turned to the older genius, to which he replied with a dismissive wave and a 'Sure, Megalodon', then going back to work.

The veteran led the teen out of the lab and down the stairs, then up to Peter's room.

"We're goin' to go outside today." He finally informed, feeling quite proud to say those words.

"Outside? You mean the roof?" Peter was very confused. The roof isn't a new thing.

"Not the roof. The ground."

His eyes went wide with disbelief and shock, "D-down there? With everyone else?"

Bucky beamed blindingly and nodded, "The weather is perfect outside an' we figured that since you've... Gotten used to me, you could go out. Wanda said it was fine."

Peter squirmed. If Wanda said it was okay, then it was okay. Yet he still couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the thought of so many people around him. No, this is his dream. He wants this. He's been waiting for this for as long as he can remember– ten or eleven years. "Where will we be going down there? I know there are things like shops a-and restaurants and stuff."

"We'll go to the hairdresser first and get your hair cut. Maybe stop somewhere and grab a bite to eat. Then Central Park. It's a huge park in Manhattan." The name sounded familiar.

"S-should I wear something different?" Peter looked down at his outfit. Simple pale blue capris, white ankle socks, an off-white and brown-beige striped button-up, and a white t-shirt underneath that had 'ABBA' written in big, bold, golden letters across his chest.

"Hold on, I'll be right back." He left and returned a few seconds later with a deep red baseball cap in hand. "Wear this. We can go now, if you want?" Barnes could barely contain his excitement about bringing Parker out in the real world at long last.

"Yes, please." He smiled with nervous anticipation, placing the hat on just like he's seen in the movies.

The two descended by Avenger-only elevator– Peter was tense but never voiced his complaints. They got to the lobby and the curly-haired teen was surprised–and scared–at how many people were bustling about. In resemblance to yesterday, like an intimidated kid, he grabbed Bucky's shirt sleeve and let the older lead him to wherever they were to go. While passing, Bucky nodded and forced a smile at the young receptionist, who smiled kindly back, a hint of fear in his eyes.

Right before they exited, Soldier stopped dead in his tracks, Spider just barely stopping before bumping into him. He looked up at his friend in confusion.

"Sorry. Bruce told me you might need these." He pulled out a small case, opened it, and took out a pair of hearing-aid-looking devices. "Knows you have some kind o' advanced hearin' so he made these just for you."

Peter took them and stuck them in his ears, the noise proceeding going down just a little. It was enough that everything was decently more bearable.

"When we get back, he wants to know how well they work." Bucky informed, then strode out the door, Peter following close behind.

Peter flinched so heavily at the barrage of sounds, smells, and sights, that he almost fell back. Everything was so overwhelming. There was the smell of various foods, people, oil, metal, smoke, wind, animals, etc... The honks were a helluva lot louder down here, along with the cars, constant talking, and yelling from a few people. Everything seemed brighter–the sun, the sky, the colours–and it burned his eyes. How can people stand this, even without enhanced senses?

Part of Peter wanted to just go curl up in a dark corner forever and forget all of this pain. The other part was insanely curious about anything and everything.

"Sorry. I guess it's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Bucky asked and Spider winced a little at the added noise.

"Y-yeah. I'll adjust somehow. Don't worry. Just– please lead the way." As painful as it was for him, he really wanted to get a move on and see more things. Barnes nodded silently and continued his confident stride, Parker holding onto his sleeve warily.

Peter looked around in awe at all the things, eyes trying to look at everything at once as to not miss anything. He would occasionally stop in front of a store to spend more time peering inside, Bucky standing by patiently, an easy smile on his face. The teen constantly pointed to things and asked about what they were. Soldier would try his best to tell him, though it was hard because even he didn't know some of the things these days. Crossing streets made Peter rather anxious– the fear of cars not stopping was continual. Every so often, they'd get separated by the crowd, causing Peter to internally panic and worry. But they'd always find each other again.

Some people passing gave them a few interesting looks since Peter was acting like a little kid, despite being a teenager. However, they all resumed staring forward when they saw James Buchanan Barnes– famous war hero and ex-assassin.

They gradually found themselves in front of _Robert Bezjon Salon_ – a hairdresser place near Central Park.

"Time for your haircut." Bucky said, pushing the slightly scared boy inside and removing his hat.

He's never been in a shop before.

It was pressuring.

People sat in chairs by the window, reading magazines while they waited. Other people sat in higher chairs with sheets covering them and mirrors in front of them while their hair was cut. Flashy bottles of hair products stood on shelves, ready to be bought. It wasn't very busy, to the metal-armed man's surprise.

Bucky saw the uneasy look on Peter's face and tried to reassure him, "Relax, this is where I go for my haircuts. He's a very nice person."

As if on cue, a tall man with tan skin & wiry muscles, circular glasses, an undercut with the top of his curly black hair dyed silver-white, and a simple but fashionable outfit, neared them, smiling, "James! Good to see you again. And you've brought a friend."

"Ramone, this is Peter. Peter, this is Ramone. How are you?" He acknowledged with a reserved smile.

"Good, good." His striking central-heterochromia eyes turned to Peter, eyes taking in every inch of his hair. (It made the feelings of intimidation return and he shrunk back instinctively). "Tsk. Tsk. This just will not do."

"S-sorry?" Spider was dazed by his bright, cheery personality– similar to Shuri.

"Peter is obviously why you're here. So, what should we do with you?" Ramone looked between the two.

The two ex-assassins shared a glance full of unspoken words. Peter just shrugged, not knowing what else to do. The Men always cut his hair for him and they did it however they wanted. So he honestly didn't know.

"Whatever looks good. Just don't dye it." Bucky replied after a few seconds.

"Sensational. Come with me!" He motioned for Peter and started walking away. The fifteen year-old looked back to Bucky, who just smiled in assurance and gave a curt nod.

Ramone had Peter sit in a chair with his head back over a sink-type thing. He got to work washing his hair, to which the younger was very surprised and feeling, once again, vulnerable. A wave of relief washed over the teen when they finished. Ramone led him back to the main area and sat him down on one of the chairs, draping one of the black sheets over his front.

"Let's see..." He pondered for a minute, many ideas coming to mind. Peter stole glances at Bucky from the mirror, the older giving him the same comforting twitch of his lips each time.

Ramone quickly got to work, snipping, combing, and clipping hair. The entire time, Spider sat there compliantly. Tense but compliant. He really didn't want to be here.

Thirty minutes went by and the hairdresser finally announced the end of his torture, "You look absolutely stunning!" He squealed happily, making Peter grimace from the shrill noise.

 _It's just a haircut, why does it matter so much?_ Peter thought, confused. The sides of his head were cut down, not as short as Ramone's, but still around an inch or two. The top was cut only a little, that way it was longer and complemented the flatter sides with its natural curls.

"Th-thanks." He said as he was released from the chair.

"Thank you, Ramone." Bucky's voice sounded from behind him and he automatically went to stand beside him.

"Any day, James." The tall hairdresser replied with a wave, leading them to the counter to pay, "Since you are a new customer, and a friend of James', I'll throw in some hair products for free." He grabbed three things from the shelf behind him and put them in a small bag.

"Thank you."

They paid and left, shooting one last 'good-bye' and 'thank you' to a satisfied Ramone.

"Next, we find a place to grab a bite to eat."

The two walked for twenty minutes, Peter deciding to keep his head down now because of how bright the sun was and the lack of shade. They made their way through the crowded sidewalks and over busy streets, until Bucky stopped in front of a café. _Ground Central Coffee_.

Peter shivered at the intense A/C in the eatery, mumbling something incoherent about how devastatingly cold it was. Bucky chuckled quietly and brought him to the counter where he ordered a coffee, a peach tea, and two sandwiches.

"Where do you want to sit?" The older male asked.

"I-I don't know. You choose."

"Near the window it is." He announced and lead the way to a table by the window.

They sat down and happily began to eat their food in comfortable silence. Both–especially Peter–were glad to take a break from the busy streets. It was really nice to get out and do something for once instead of being trapped inside all day.

Peter gleefully observed the people and cars passing. It astonished him how they were all so different. Some people wore fancy suits despite the weather. Others wore short shorts and t-shirts. Some had sweaters and pants. There were people with short hair and people with long. There were blonds, brunettes, black-haired people, grey-haired people, white-haired people, and even a ginger.

"Ready to go?" Bucky asked when he saw that they were both done.

Without sparing a glance, Peter hummed in 'yes', staring leisurely at the things outside. He absentmindedly followed Bucky out the door after paying.

They started their journey to Central Park by going back the way they came from the hair salon. Peter felt a lot more comfortable with his surroundings now that he'd gotten his senses under enough control for everything to become manageable.

The boys got to the edge of Central Park and Peter abruptly stopped. Bucky got held back by the hand on his sleeve.

"What's wrong?"

No answer.

"Peter?"

No answer.

He was too busy staring at all the _green_. The fascinating beauty that stretched on as far as the average eye could see stunned Peter. It wasn't like anything else he's ever seen before. Trees loomed above them, providing delightful shade. Birds sang their alluring songs in the trees. All the people in the park looked relaxed and carefree, joyously basking in the weather.

Words escaped Peter and all he could do was stand there, mouth open in awe at the colours.

"C'mon." Bucky smiled encouragingly, tugging the boy forward. "It'll be fun. I promise."

 _When Will My Life Begin (Reprise)_.

That was the one song that flooded his mind when he first stepped in the grass. He smiled happily as they padded to a bench. They sat down and Peter intently watched the blades of grass bend over when his sneakers brushed them. A soft giggle escaped him when the little ghostly noises were really heard for the first time.

_'Should I?_

_No_

_Here I go...'_

Peter bent over, his chin touching his knees, and ran his fingers through the green blades. The ticklish plant made him laugh.

_'Just smell the grass. The dirt._

_Just like a dreamed they'd be._

_[...]_

_For the first time ever, I'm completely free.'_

He let go of Bucky and let himself fall on the grass, not able to contain his glee-filled beam. Peter rolled around a few times, laughing loudly, and received more strange looks from passing citizens.

Bucky watched fondly, happy to see that his friend was having so much fun.

"This is awesome!" Peter exclaimed, out of breath.

Barnes hummed in return, closing his eyes and embracing the warmth of the sun.

Spider jumped up and dragged a surprised Soldier to his feet, asking, "Can we go for a walk around the park?"

"Sure." He replied with a shrug.

They walked around for awhile, Peter stopping to look at every flower he saw. The simpler smells of trees and cleaner air was so much better than the staggering smells in the streets.

Peter made a sort-of squeak noise and tugged softly at Bucky's sleeve, staring straight ahead. The veteran looked down at the teen, then followed his gaze and smiled.

A few meters away was a lady and her around-six-year-old son with a big dog. Spider's eyes were set solely on the lively white and copper animal. It's tail wagged back and forth rapidly as it played ball with the little boy. The mother sat by in the shade, her eyes flickering between her book and her kid(s).

"That's a dog. Right?"

"Yeah, that's a dog." When Peter's gaze didn't waver, he spoke again, "You can ask to go pet it, if you want."

"Really?" His head whipped up to meet Bucky's grey gaze.

"Sure. Go on. I bet she'll let you." He nudged the nervous teen playfully.

Peter anxiously ambled over to the content family, not really knowing what to do. Bucky's slower, more reserved footsteps followed en suite, then stopped at a certain distance.

"U-um, excuse me, ma'am?"

She looked up, her eyes kind and warm and _motherly_ , "Yes? How can I help you?"

"C-can I pet your dog, please?" He requested, feeling weird asking a question to somebody he doesn't know and will probably never see again.

She smiled, "Sure. Ivory!" The dog immediately lifted its head, dropped the ball, and trotted over merrily. The lady gave a little 'have at it', gesture.

Peter crouched down so he was more eye-level with the dog, and commenced running his hands through the soft fur (making sure to go the right way like he's seen in media). The dog was completely okay with this and didn't make a move to leave.

"Try scratching behind the ears!" Bucky called helpfully. Peter smiled and listened, scratching behind Ivory's ears. The dog's tail wagged faster and her eyes closed.

At the sound of the soldier's voice, the lady whipped her head up, hazel eyes blown wide, "Y-you're Bucky Barnes!" And then quieter so that even he couldn't hear, "Oh my god I had a crush on you in middle school."

"I _am_ Bucky Barnes. Yeah." He responded coolly, most signs of genuine emotion gone.

She stood up and extended her right hand, "N-nice to meet you."

"You too." The man responded politely, shaking her hand.

Suddenly, the little boy waddled up, "I like your hair, Mr. You could be a sa-mu-ra-i!"

"Oh? Is that so?" He smiled softly at the innocent child, crouched down to his eye-level, then tied his hair up in a loose bun. "This better?"

"Super awesome!" The kid exclaimed.

"I'm sorry about him." The mom's face was red with embarrassment.

"Don't worry 'bout it." Barnes waved off, then turned to Peter, who was, by this point, rolling around in the grass with the dog, laughing, "Peter, should we continue our walk?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry." Spider sprung up and wiped the grass off himself. "Thanks for letting me pet your dog, ma'am." He called as he strode away with Bucky, who muttered a 'thank you' and another forced smile. The lady just watched them go with a blush painting her cheeks.

Peter and Bucky sat down on a bench in the shade of an oak tree, late afternoon sunlight just barely missing their feet. Spider leaned against his metal shoulder, knees up at his chin, hands holding his legs in place. He watched all the happy families come and go.

Families.

That word has been haunting him in the last twenty-four hours.

Here in the park, he saw many families. Children running around, some dragging their tired parents behind. Mothers and fathers pushing strollers while chatting. Families playing with their dogs, frisbees, tennis balls, and whatever else. Parents hugging their children, swinging the kids between their hands as they walked. People dragging their reluctant, crying children home. Parents acting fascinated about something stupid their kid found. Little kids laughing and smiling so happily.

It made him kind of sick.

Peter was jealous. He hated to admit it, but it was true.

And frustrated. That was another good word to use in this case.

Jealous and frustrated.

Sure, he was happy for the kids, too. They got loving parents and good home. They get to grow up in a normal environment doing normal kid things. These kids never had to see the kinds of things he did. No killing, torture, blood, hunger, or trauma. Just love, affection, warmth, full bellies, and friends/family.

But that's what made Peter sick.

The fact that he didn't have that. He would never have that. No carefree days of being a little kid. No stress-free days where all you worried about was whether or not your friend would invite you to their birthday party. Or if you couldn't get that one toy you've wanted for a few days.

He didn't get that.

Peter didn't want to feel jealous or frustrated. But he did. And he felt awful about it. It's not like this was anyone's fault except HYDRA's. So why should he feel spiteful towards these innocent little children? _Because_ they were innocent.

A strained _creak_ and then a loud _crack_ went unnoticed by him, but not by Bucky. Spider's hand had been gripping the bench so hard that it began to crack under the pressure. Barnes snapped out of his peaceful train of thought, worry etched in his brow when he saw the exceedingly tense teenager looking as though he would break down any second.

He forcefully dragged an oblivious Peter to his feet and pulled him to the closest street. Bucky hailed a taxi and gently put the almost-at-a-breaking-point teen in the backseat with him.

"Avengers tower." He instructed harshly, concerned about his honey-eyed friend beside him. The taxi driver eagerly sped towards the tower.

They got there in fifteen minutes, Soldier paying more than enough and rushing out, unsteady Spider in tow. He felt the younger grow more and more unstable by the second, scared that he'd break before getting to the common floor.

They hurried out, Bucky not saying a word to the confused secretary, and got into the private elevator.

"FRIDAY, Peter's room. Now." He snapped, holding the now-clinging teen closely.

The AI, sensing his urgency, didn't speak, but complied. Up and up they went, seconds feeling like hours. A soft ding sounded and the doors began to slide open, Bucky exiting without caring that they weren't fully open yet.

Vision, who was walking by, saw the two, and became concerned with how worried Bucky was. "What's–"

"Not the time, robot!" The ex-assassin interrupted, picking up Peter and entering his room, closing the door loudly but without much force so it didn't break again.

He plopped down on the bed, placing the younger beside him. Parker whimpered and clambered onto his lap, holding onto him tightly just like the night before.

"What's happenin'. What's goin' on? Peter?" This was a frantic side of Bucky that _rarely_ came out. When the boy didn't answer, he said his name again.

The dam of Spider's emotions broke, contents flooding out in the form of tears and muffled cries.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Was all he said, repeatedly, between sobs. Just a continuous amount of blubbers. Poor teen sounded like a complete wreck– which he was at this point.

"Why are you sorry? What's the problem?" _Shit, I thought today was goin' great. The hell did I do wrong?_

Instead of replying, Peter began to scream, letting out all of the torment of the past years. Bucky was taken aback, but soon soothed the teen, running his hand slowly through his hair– exactly like his mother used to. Spider kept on screaming, his guttural howls muffled by the older's Henley.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I ain't goin' anywhere. Everythin's gonna be okay." Bucky shushed tenderly, rocking back and forth gently. He didn't really know what he was saying these things about, but they felt like the right words to say.

Minutes–or maybe hours–passed of this. Nobody came to see what was up. Maybe FRIDAY and Vision had told them to stay away– (Bucky hoped). Peter had screamed until he couldn't scream anymore. The throaty wails gradually stopped when his esophagus began to sting. His throat was burning at this point, but he didn't let his friend get up and grab him a drink. He just let it swell and throb as punishment for his actions. Peter was satisfied but still tired and kind-of crying.

Bucky leaned the both back and put on a Disney movie. He wrapped the covers around them and made sure the pillows were perfect. Spider snuggled into his left side, the last of his tears drying on his shirt.

In a matter of minutes, they boy was sound asleep, exhausted from the day's activities. Bucky, still confused and anxiety-ridden, was thankful that Peter finally got to release some of his inner turmoil.

That was the second day that the reality of Peter's world crashed down upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10,596 words. 10,596 W O R D S. JÉSUS CRISPY, that's a lot. I'm so, so sorry about that. Writing scenes with Peter breaking down is very hard, especially since his past is the opposite of mine. I–thankfully–don't know how he feels, so it's not easy to write him like this. (I try to account for lots of things).
> 
> I might make these chapters longer because I have a lot of events to get through and I could see this book being very long (or even splitting it up into to two– a sequel). So anyway, hope you enjoyed that word-vomit. Have a good morning, day, or night my dear entities.
> 
> -Swindle


	27. Ch 26-Powers, Godparents, and actual Gods

**SO... I kinda made Peter a BAMF! I would like to mention the story 'The Marvel that is Spider-Man' by Kamikaze132 on Ao3 because they have the most amazing explanation of his powers.**

**Also, if any of you are doubting his powers: https://www.quora.com/How-strong-is-Spider-Man**

**3rd POV**

That very same night was majorly uncomfortable for Peter. It was like the first dinner he had here– eyes were on him like a dog's on a squirrel. Everybody wanted to ask why both Vision and FRIDAY told them to stay away, why they heard faint screaming, and why Peter seemed to have been crying. However, Bucky's glaring and Wanda's nervous, shaky demeanour told them to stay quiet. The teen stared directly at his food the whole time, still-semi-puffy eyes practically boring holes into his Beef Stroganoff.

Bruce, being the amazing person he is, decided to ask Peter a question unrelated to the day's events in hopes he'd feel more comfortable, "So, Peter, I was wondering if I could test out your powers? I know you have enhanced healing, venom, a big metabolism, some super strength, and super senses, but I'd like to know what else."

"Sure, Dr. Banner." He replied blandly, mind slipping into more of his old self.

"Does after dinner work? I can't wait to start." The scientist smiled his signature lop-sided, anxious smile.

"Whenever you want." Peter forced a bite and almost threw up when he swallowed it down– his stomach was still churning with sadness and jealousy.

Once again, the room lapsed in silence, any small attempts at conversation fizzling out swiftly. After what felt like hours, the food was consumed and the table was clean.

"Ready?" Bruce asked, taking out a black rod which opened into a small hologram.

Peter nodded numbly, following the scientist.

"Definitely tagging along for this." Clint said, drying his hands off and skipping towards the two.

"Count me in." Pietro grinned and joined them.

Soon enough, everybody was following the two down the stairs, talk of Peter's powers bouncing between them. They've already seen him in action, but they were too busy trying to capture and contain him rather than care to stop and marvel at his abilities.

They descended a few levels and walked into a hallway with a window wall on the right-hand side. Down the hall was the elevator. To the left were a pair of big white doors on a plain white wall.

Bruce placed his hand on a pad and a scanner enveloped his face and hand. The doors slid open to reveal a huge, white room that was probably around two stories high. On one end was an obstacle course, some ropes hanging from the ceiling with mats underneath, and a maze of tall, dull spire-like structures. The other end had a two boxing rings and a few punching bags. There were targets hanging all around the room along with mats in the centre. Peter could see the faint lines of hidden compartments in the walls. An elevated black window and a door sat on the side with the boxing rings. Another window and door next to one of the compartments showed both an indoor shooting/archery range and a knife-throwing range. There were large windows to the outside above where the wall came out to accompany the ranges.

"Welcome to the training room." Bruce smiled lightly, "I'll be testing your abilities here."

"Yes, Dr. Banner." Peter was amazed at how big their training room was. It had _everything_. Back at the base, there were smaller individual rooms for each of his abilities.

"First test; Strength." Banner led the teen to a human-sized black machine that he had not noticed upon entering. "Punch the red circle and a number will pop up– that's your level of strength." Peter nodded in understanding.

"Thor demolished it when he punched it." Clint commented, snickering when he remembered how distraught the God had looked.

"What's the number for the average human being?" He dared ask.

"Around one-hundred." Banner replied. "Steve–the strongest of us–"

"Not for long." Bucky murmured too quiet for anyone to hear, but earned curious looks from Natasha and Vision.

"–usually gets about seven-hundred. The limit on the machine is nine-hundred and ninety-nine."

"So... I go all out?"

"All out."

"No holding back?"

"No holding back." Bruce confirmed with a grin, eager to see how much strength the boy had, "Whenever you're ready."

Spider took a deep breath and got into a proper fighting stance, preparing to throw a punch. He concentrated as much of his strength in his arm as possible, imagining his fist colliding with the equipment. With one final swallow of oxygen, he propelled his fist through the air like an elastic band being released from a finger– lightning fast and practically unseeable. His hand came into contact with the durable red circle and a satisfying _crack_ echoed around the room. A small shockwave and gust of wind rippled around them. When Peter retracted his hand, the circle and other parts of the machine were severely cracked, fragments chipping away.

"Holy..." Bruce exhaled, eyes wide with shock.

"That's almost like what Thor did, but just smaller and not as much." Clint narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Did this kid really crack the machine?

Numbers started counting upwards until they eventually reached 999. Beeping erupted, signaling that he had actually passed the limit and that the machine couldn't go any further.

"He's– he went past the limit. Just how strong are you, Peter?" Wanda asked, watching the machine break apart little by little.

The teen turned around to face the others again, a sheepish grin on his face, "I... I don't really know. I've never used my full strength before." Then back to the broken appliance, "S-sorry. I could probably help fix it i-if you give me a chance." Spider flinched when more pieces crumbled, cringing at the sight of the training equipment.

"Don't worry, bug boy." Tony waved off, already inspecting the remarkable amount of damage. "We can fix it together later."

"'Never used my full strength before'. Ever?" Bruce typed furiously on the hologram.

"Correct. Not once. All my missions were fulfilled without using my full strength. The Men never pushed me to limits. I don't know the reason why but I can assume it's because as long as they're in control and I can complete all my missions, there is no need to test me." Spider replied dutifully, arms folded behind his back.

"Well, uh, that's over. Next ability?" Banner announced questioningly.

Peter walked over to the wall, removed his socks, and placed his right foot on the smooth, white surface. He quickly put all of his weight on the foot sticking to the vertical surface and lifted his left foot to follow. Once he was securely sticking to the wall, he walked upwards casually, not exuding any effort. Halfway up, Peter went into a sort-of crouch position, fingertips on the wall as well to make it easier to climb up, then continued. He stopped at the top in his signature side-of-pool observant manner, getting a big look of the room.

The others down below looked up at him, some in wonder, some in curiosity, Natasha, almost impressed. Bucky beamed softly, giving him an awkward little thumbs-up. The two other science-lovers in the room were typing things, discussing theories about the doe-eyed teen.

Peter went on through different challenges and gleefully listened to Bruce and Tony's speculations.

Spider showed his webs and web-swinging abilities, telling them all about how they can swiftly drain his strength but are an infinite supply. Also demonstrating how they can dissolve in seconds if he uses his venom on them– sorta like an antidote.

He did splits, over splits (which scared the hell out of some people), backflips, various contortion poses, and other moves that showed off both flexibility and strength.

Peter sparred against Natasha and Steve. He knew he had to hold back–he always did–otherwise he'd strike them hard enough to rip apart their flesh, or in the very worst case, their limb off. He won against both– Steve easily since he was smaller and much more agile, but Natasha was troublesome. She had agility as well, along with the same assassin training. Just more experience. It took a lot of concentration for him to not just accidentally kill her then and there. After the match, Romanoff suggested she helped him with his offense, since he seemed to be more focused on protecting, not harming.

He destroyed a reinforced punching bag with only a few full-powered hits. Nailed the targets perfectly with both blades and bullets. Beat the obstacle course in twenty-six seconds (a new record). Lost against Natasha when using an assortment of weapons– not his forte. Climbed up the rope to the immense ceiling in five seconds flat– without using his feet. Was able to lift any weight given without any struggle. And did a couple other things that were suggested, mostly for jokes and laughs.

They wrapped it up and Peter was barely sweating. He was dragged–not physically–to Stark's lab so the two older scientists could get more scans and tests on him, trying to find out how he can do the things he can.

Turns out, he's hella powerful. More physical strength than any Avenger except Thor, and possibly Hulk, though they can't confirm. His muscles are awfully more dense than the average, along with extremely high elasticity despite the toughness of them. They were slightly shock-observant, causing him to not even flinch at being punched by Nat, or when he fell a few meters from the wall (on purpose).

Instead of microscopic hairs on his body, Peter discovered that he has the ability to 'mentally control the flux of inter-atomic attraction between molecular boundary layers'. So he kind of bends the gravity around him to his will. **(I think. Just go with it)**. Spider's body had also achieved perfect equilibrium– able to balance on any surface at any angle.

Peter's stamina was beyond comprehension, surpassing anything any of them had ever seen before. They weren't able to test speed or jumping ability since he insisted that this room was too small. Instead, they found out how fast he was in the air. (Which was fast).

Reflexes were nothing short of godly. Peter caught arrows and knives. Dodged bullets and punches. It was hard to land a hit on him because it was as though he foretold your moves. (He would never admit it, but he went easy on them). He then explained about his Spider Sense–which was now dubbed 'Spidey Sense'–and how it subconsciously sensed danger. Though he also mentioned how he learned to tune it out in some cases, taking control of it for the most part.

"If you have all these powers, how come you haven't used them in front of us?" Steve asked curiously, nods and muttered agreements from others following.

"Steve has a good point." Bruce nodded his head and looked up from his notes, "I mean, Wanda uses hers for cooking and cleaning... and getting Pietro to shut up. Steve usually just moves stuff around for us. And both Vision and Pietro use theirs for self-transportation."

"I was never given permission. Was I supposed to?" He panicked, the familiar sick feeling of waiting to be punished was pushed away by the constant mantra of _I'm okay here_.

"Ah, we didn't– we didn't think of that." Banner huffed in embarrassment, pushing his glasses up his nose to compose himself. "You can use them whenever you want. Just as long as you're careful and don't make a mess."

Peter nodded and went on to explain more about his healing factor, enhanced senses, and even the rare Sensory Overloads. By the time they were officially done in the labs, it was 1:49am and the boy was mentally and socially drained. He left the two satisfied scientists to their own devices and made it down to his room, just barely having a shower before passing out on the floor.

Two days went by and all both Bruce and Tony could talk about were his powers. Peter thought they had gotten all their questions out the evening of his show-and-tell, but... Boy was he wrong. To add on to the craziness, Shuri had returned, quickly hearing about his demonstration from Wanda, and coming up with infinite questions of her own.

Afternoon rolled around and Peter was sprawled on the couch, basking leisurely in the warm rays of sunshine. The commons were deserted except for him and Shuri, who was making a salad in the kitchen. Spider welcomed the silence, happy to not have to talk and explain everything about himself.

The male teen was at the point where he was on the verge of sleep, barely hearing the chatter of the TV and the clinking of a fork against a plate. It was times like these where he felt safe enough to let himself relax.

A soft ding rang out and Peter heard multiple pairs of footsteps exit the elevator. People conversed as they walked to the kitchen. He was conscious enough to make out Clint and Natasha's voices, but not the other person– who was too silent for him to worry about.

Peter drifted off and blissfully ignored their chatter, content to forget about everything. The only problem was that, of course, he was interrupted by his Spidey Sense buzzing marginally in the back of his neck. Since he wasn't at all expecting this to happen, his body moved on its own. Peter's hand shot up and grabbed something cylindrical and cold, shoving it upwards and instinctively pressing on a plastic bit. He heard a _fsshh_ sound and could feel a creamy substance pool around his hand and onto whatever was in front of him. Spider's eyes blinked open and he could hear a frustrated groan elicit from Clint's mouth. Turns out, the archer was trying to prank him by putting whip cream in his hand and tickling his face with a feather. However, he failed miserably.

"Sorry about him." Natasha rolled her eyes and dragged the older man away, hiding her snickers. She returned with him still in tow, "We have somebody we'd like you to meet."

The third person–who he had discovered to be Bucky–interjected, "They should be here in a minute."

Peter nodded and began cleaning his hand. The elevator dinged again. A lady walked out with the help of her cane. She looked around at the sleek interior, and chortled to herself, "I think I'm in the right place."

Romanoff waved at her from around the corner, "Over here, Ms. Matthews."

"Natasha, now how many times have I told you to call me Dorothy?" She hobbled up to the redhead and gave her a hug.

"Not enough, Ms. Matthews." The ex-assassin replied with a grin as she pulled away.

Dorothy was about to huff a laugh or roll her eyes or _something_ , but she was completely stopped in her tracks. Behind Natasha stood a boy she never thought she'd see before, his back turned as he washed his hand. In all these past years of missing Peter, Dorothy had never truly prepared for this moment. She thought she had. Everyday she found herself hoping for this, but pushing it away as a simple, silly wish.

Now? Now that he was literally two meters away, she had to will herself not to just go up and hug him. All she knew was that HYDRA had captured him and he was given spider-like powers. However, that was enough to know that this... _boy_ had been through so much. Things that she didn't comprehend and care to ask about. Thinking about it made her blood boil and her gut sink.

Wiping the tears away, she stood still and watched as Peter turned around. Who she saw face-to-face was a ghost of everything he used to be. A mere fragment of the previous excited two year-old she babysat thirteen years ago.

Peter's familiar doe eyes were now void of previous happy emotions. The only thing she saw in those brown orbs of his were sparks of curiosity and hesitance.

He was about to hold out his hand but noticed it was still wet. So he jerked it back and instead dried it off, turning back to her and putting his hand out again, "Apologies. I'm Peter Parker."

She beamed as warmly as she could, devastated that this was nothing like the bubbly little boy she once knew, "I know who you are. My name is Dorothy Matthews. I insist you call me Dorothy though."

Peter nodded, intrigued at how this person already knew him, "Okay, Ms. Dorothy."

The old lady breathed a laugh, recognizing some of Mary's politeness in him. They both turned at the sound of a large _thunk_. Bucky had slipped away and gotten the huge box of memories, placing it on the floor beside the coffee table.

"Let's go sit down." Dorothy said, leading him over to the couch and sitting down where they angled themselves on the furniture to face each other easier. Peter noticed how everybody but Bucky–who now sat diagonally behind the teen so the younger was leaning back against his side–had cleared out.

"Peter," The ex-agent started, choosing her words carefully, "do you know anything about your parents?"

Peter was, to say the least, caught off guard by the question. He took a moment to think, wondering what she meant, "All I know is what the Men told me– that I was sold here."

"And do you believe that?" Dorothy eyes expressed pain.

The only thing the boy could do was shrug, muted by his own doubt. Tears pricked his eyes and he didn't understand how sensitive this topic was for him until now– until he'd seen normal families, "I-I don't know what to believe anymore."

Once again, Matthews had to seriously refrain from wrapping her arms around the fragile teen and holding him for eternity. Her eyes started to wet again, but she persistently blinked it away, "Would you like me to tell you about them?"

"No." He replied without thinking, which shocked both the old woman and Bucky. Peter was also surprised at his own answer, though deep down knew where it was coming from. He had fantasized for years about them. What they looked like. What they sounded like. What they acted like. But he was scared. God, was he scared. He no longer wanted answers, afraid of what they would be. Afraid of whether his parents turned out to be not as he envisioned. But what if they were good people? That'd be the worse answer. Peter didn't want to find himself crying worthlessly again over something he pointlessly yearned for, "M-maybe one day. But not now."

"Then that's okay."

And for once in his life, he was allowed to run away.

To hide.

To just give such an impactful answer without having to explain why.

Peter couldn't help the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Or help the soft sobs of thankful freedom and crooked joy escape his lips. He didn't resist when Dorothy reached up tentatively and wiped his wet cheeks with her hand, giving the teen a tender feeling of motherly comfort. Bucky cautiously snaked his metal arm around the younger male's waist and hugged him close, shooting a grateful look at the lady for her kind gestures.

"It's okay, Peter, it's okay." Ms. Matthews offered what little reassurance she had when the teen began blubbering near-incoherent apologies.

When Spider finally got himself together, he spoke with a hiccuping voice, "I-I just h-have two questions. First one; d-did my parents r-really sell me to H-HYDRA?"

"No." Dorothy replied with a hint of fortitude in her voice, "They didn't."

Spider's lips twitched into a feeble smile, _So they couldn't have been that bad of people. The Men lied._ Peter was thankful for the simplicity of the answer and continued on,"What really h-happened that night? I-I need to know."

Matthews sighed and explained it all, leaving out anything that gave Parker an idea of what his parents were like, to the best of her ability. Peter sat through it patiently, trying his best not to cry. Though he did fail. Dorothy also, per his request, told Spider where he used to live (even showed him pictures of the estate years ago) and the kinds of things she and him used to do together when she would be babysitting him.

"Thank you." The teen sniffled and coughed when she was done, "Thank you so much."

"You don't have to thank me. You deserve to know the truth." With that, the topic was concluded and she moved on, "Now, do you know who I am?"

"No, I don't."

The ex-agent exhaled and leaned back a little, "I figured. I'm your godmother."

 _Godmother_. The worded sounded familiar and important, but Peter couldn't recall, for the life of him, what it meant, "I'm sorry. I forget what that means."

"It means, if anything were to happen to your parents–which has–then you'd be in my care." The lady explained helpfully.

Peter took a second to digest that, "So... Since my parents died, your–" he gulped and met her crisp apple-green eyes, "–your duty as my godmother is– is to step up and care for me?"

"Yes." Ms. Matthews confirmed.

"You could take me back home with you and take over the role as a parent? As long as you got legal permission?" Those words felt so wrong coming out of his mouth that he almost winced with distaste.

"That is the idea, yes."

"D-do you have to take me away?" Spider answered in a voice so small and scared that she could've sworn he was a tiny child. Before she got to answer, he kept talking, "I don't mean to be rude to you or anything, it'd make sense if you wanted to, and you s-seem very nice, but I-I don't wanna go. Please."

Dorothy looked at him curiously and a smile of knowing crept onto her lips.

"I– It's just that– I don't want leave. I like it here. I feel okay here and I don't want to mess that up. These people are– they mean _something_ to me–I don't know what–and I'd rather not leave them." He choked everything out, forcing away even the quietest of sobs. There were so many words that he couldn't manage to utter in those few sentences. But Ms. Matthews read between the lines perfectly, her heart growing soft at the unspoken meaning, "A-and I really don't want to leave Soldier. I don't think I can lose him again." Peter instinctively leaned back and curled into Bucky's side, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, "I'm sorry."

Matthews' head lowered and began to shake. Spider thought she was crying, until he heard a tiny chuckle escape her lips, "Oh, dear, I knew you'd say that. Don't worry, I don't plan on taking you away from these people. I can see how much they mean to you."

"Thank you." The caramel-haired boy brought his knees further up until they were under his chin. Millions of thoughts raced around his head, most questioning why this lady was so goddamn nice to him.

"The last thing I wanted to talk to you about is this box." She said as she patted the large box firmly, some of the contents shaking, "You've been eyeing it since it got here."

Peter was truly quite intrigued as to what the contents are. He could hear some wooden things clacking against each other when Dorothy touched the container. However had absolutely no idea as to what they could be.

"What's inside?" He couldn't help but ask, eyes wide and searching. Matthews was about to answer but more words stumbled out, "I just want to know before, um, before you open it. No surprises."

"Well," She sighed and thought, "there are books your parents used to read to you. Ones they read. A few photo albums and framed pictures of you and your family. And there is a box of toys you used to play with. Just bits and pieces of your early life."

 _Just bits and pieces? Just?_ Peter thought almost bitterly. Well, not _bitterly_ , but _bittersweetly_. This was everything had before HYDRA. His parents– his _family_ , his home, his toys, and the kinds of books that his parents enjoyed reading. The contents of this box could give him a lot on the minuscule sliver of time he spent with his parents– also on his parents in general. And, as established before, that is not what he wants.

Dorothy, with great struggle, slowly dragged the box so it was between her and Peter. She gestured for him to open it. Spider removed his knees from under his chin and leaned over, hands shaking as they closed on the lid. At the small _click_ of the lid being released, he had to recoil.

"I can't." His voice whined out, broken and drained. "I can't." The teen repeated even quieter, his words hoarse with fear. "This isn't me. This isn't who I am. I'm– I'm not the Peter Parker wh-who's life could've been defined by the contents of that box. Or– or the Peter Parker you used to babysit a-and play cars with. I'm just me. Just me. The version of Peter Parker–PTR Arachnid 24601–who– who doesn't know a-about family and home and–" He broke off, gasping and choking while tears rolled down his dusted cheeks.

"This isn't right." Spider said once he stopped his crying, "I can't look in there right now. I have to think more about it. Prepare myself."

"Peter, dear, it's okay. I'm not forcing you to look in there. Or do anything. Shh, it's okay." Dorothy was reserved to stroking his cheek lovingly while Bucky hugged the distressed teen, muttering something to him in another language. "You look in there when you're ready. Whether it's in an hour or in a year."

"Wh-what if I'm never ready?" His wide, glossy, honey eyes looked so _petrified_ and downright _child_ -like.

"Then the contents of the box will be forever untouched by your hands. That is all. There is no consequence." The pear-eyed lady shrugged.

"Th-that's– okay, yeah, nice." Words stumbled out of his mouth in uncertainty at the notion. _No consequence. Load of shit, that is._

"I don't want this to have an effect on your decision, but I think you should to look at this picture before you're sure." Dorothy pulled a copied photo out of her pocket. In it was one year-old Peter and his parents on the steps of their house, laughing openly as they posed for the picture.

Spider looked at it, hoping for it to be a brief glance, but turned into a stare. Those were his _parents_. They looked so, so happy. Just by sitting there. Peter was drawn to the photo, his eyes never leaving its interesting contents.

Eventually, Ms. Matthews put it away and took out a card whilst heaving herself to her feet. She carefully took Parker's hand and shook it, leaving the card behind when her hand retracted, "Contact me, if you ever want to talk, or even need somebody to talk to. I'm hardly busy."

She turned and hobbled towards the elevator, turning to look at a stunned Peter one last time that day, "Oh and Peter? It was nice seeing you."

With that, Spider and Soldier were left alone in the common room, the sun beginning to disappear behind the first building of the day.

The next couple hours had Peter in a crisis. He sat on the couch, glaring–maybe not glaring but intensely staring–at the box that was now next to the TV. Bucky sat dutifully beside him, not willing to leave his friend that was in such a state of distress. Avengers came and went, getting one look at Peter and deciding not to strike up a conversation with him. Instead, they just quietly did their own thing until eventually leaving.

Even dinner passed and Peter had not yet moved, still curled tightly beside the other ex-assassin with his eyes on the enormous container. Bucky heard his companion's stomach growl and attempted to force food into him. No luck though. They just sat there in silence, sun gradually dipping below the horizon, leaving splashes of pink and orange in its wake.

"I want to open it." The sound of his voice caused Bucky's head to snap up, staring profoundly at the numb teenager.

"I want to open it." Peter repeated just as monotonously, though it was evident that he was directing these words to himself. Assuring himself that he wants to do this.

"You don't have to d–"

"I want to. But not alone. I want you, the twins, Shuri, and Ms. Romanoff with me. Please." He said, voice clear but unsure. Spider stood up and lifted the box easily, "C-can we do this in my room?"

Bucky nodded and followed the younger man, telling FRIDAY to alert the mentioned. They made their way upstairs, Peter as unreadable as the past hours, and met the others by Parker's door. Wordlessly, the group entered, communicating a thousand queries with their eyes.

Peter set the box down at the foot of his bed, the carpet muffling the _thunk_. He himself plopped down on the floor beside it. Shuri and Wanda sat in the bean bag chairs. Pietro was splayed on his front on the bed. Natasha sat at the desk and Bucky sat on the ground beside her. They made a nice semi-circle around Peter.

"I– Um, I really wanted you guys here when I opened this." He informed, eyes going from one inquisitive person to the next. "So, uh, here we go."

His shaky, limestone-coloured, slightly scarred hands made their way to each side of the box, clasping onto the spot near the handles. He closed his ayes and winced when the top popped the top off with ease. Peter took a deep, anxiety-ridden breath and slid the cover away, revealing the box's contents. Slowly, he eased his eyelids open, albums and picture frames coming into sharp focus.

His honey eyes couldn't help but widen at the picture. It depicted baby him, a younger Dorothy Matthews, and two couples– who he knew as his parents and assumed to be aunt and uncle. They were in what looks like a kitchen, laughing and conversing over somebody's birthday dinner. Cake was smushed on his uncle's face and there were candles discarded everywhere.

Peter held in his tears, frustrated at how much this simple photograph affected him. _Is this how normal birthdays are like?_ He wondered, lingering on the picture for a minute before placing it next to him. Slowly but surely, Spider made his way through the pile of framed photographs. Some were silly and natural, the people doing regular. Others he could tell that the people posed for them.

The frame at the very bottom was one of the two couples standing beside a 'Sold' sign.

"Are– these are my parents, aren't they?" Peter asked no one in particular, eyes watering because he _knew_. These were definitely his parents. He looked _so_ _much_ like his dad.

"Yes." Natasha responded simply, her lips curled in a soft smile at the emotional boy.

Parker brought the picture to his heart and curled up, squeezing his eyes shut so intensely that when he finally opened them, spots danced across his vision. Shuddering breaths were punched out of him, a wave of emotional longing building up in his gut. The warm, calloused hand of Bucky on his knee encouraged him to continue.

"I'm okay." The doe-eyed teenager reassured weakly, grabbing at the thick top photo album– a red one with a beautiful gold lace design. It read 'M&R' on the front.

His slender fingers swept across the hardcover fabric, catching dust as it went. When his hand reached the other side, his fingers curled over the edge, opening the album. 'Mary & Richard Parker–1998-2001' was written in calligraphy in the cover. The first page were his parents on a date in Central Park, his mom pointing at something off in the distance, 'Date in Central Park–June 1st, 1998'. He flipped through the pages, admiring each photo with a whole new level of adoration and desire each time.

The next picture that really caught his attention were his parents at their wedding. They stood at the altar, looking completely and utterly ecstatic as they beamed at each other, 'Wedding day–July 29th', 1998. More photos of them at the altar and during the reception filled the next two pages. Peter saw a copy of the photo when they stood beside their 'Sold' sign, 'First house!–August 17th, 1998'. There was a page dedicated to them moving in, along with one of them and his aunt, uncle, some friends, and Ms. Matthews throwing a 'Congratulations' dinner.

Peter kept flipping through, the rest mostly being his parents, aunt, uncle, and Ms. Matthews doing things like gardening, eating, going to the city, or house repairs. At the very end of the book were photos of his mom, pregnant. The first was the couple crying in joy over a positive pregnancy test. As he got closer to the end of the album, Mary's stomach grew until on the last page, there was a picture of newborn him in his mothers arms at the hospital, their friends and family tearing up happily. 'Peter Benjamin Parker, born August 10th, 2001–August 10th, 2001'.

The last picture made Peter choke, a sob escaping his lips involuntarily. He cried quietly for five minutes, tears dripping onto the plastic sheets over the photos. Wiping away the liquid with determination, Parker placed the red album to the side and picked up the next one, an equally thick blue one that read 'Family' on the cover.

Something about this this album made a shiver crawl up his spine. It was different than the others. This time, there was nothing inside the cover. The first picture was of his mom bringing him home from the hospital, streamers and balloons hanging around the house, 'Welcome home, Peter–August 11th, 2001'. There were so many pictures of tiny him– innocent, unharmed Peter.

In every picture with him and his family, the adults always looked so happy. Like his presence actually brought them genuine joy. That– that's not normal. Peter almost cried at the thought that his parents _loved_ him. That he wasn't just an object or a tool to them. That he was valued and cared for.

Spider almost closed the album and threw it across the room with how much of a fucking mess his emotions were that moment. Instead, his hand reached out and clenched Bucky's left hand, squeezing it in hopes he would calm down. Barnes squeezed back, wordlessly reassuring him that everything was okay. That was all the teen needed to continue, rapidly making his way through the pages just to get this over with. Birthdays, visits to the park, babysitting, the smoking twin towers, playing, watching TV, and other miscellaneous pictures passed by quickly, only giving Peter a sick feeling that his life was over. And that whoever this was wasn't him.

As he was flipping through, the photographs abruptly stopped. No more pictures for a good third of the album. Thinking it was a mistake, Spider kept searching until he met the end without any more photos. The last picture in the album was one of two year-old him sitting on a high-chair babbling nonsense as his parents ate breakfast and fed them oatmeal. It was titled 'September 16th, 2003'– just four days before he was captured and his family was murdered.

His heart _broke_ at this.

That's it. That's everything.

That was his entire life. Those ninety-something pages symbolized everything he could've been. Everything he wasn't. No family, no home, no love. That's how he grew up. Controlled, used, and objectified– living in a world void of the elements that nurture children into becoming good people.

Peter trembled at this revelation. Everybody grew more concerned than ever when choked cries and sniffles sounded from behind his hands. Bucky tentatively pulled him close into his side, encouraging the younger male to lean on him for support. Pietro, Wanda, and Natasha couldn't do anything to get close, but Shuri leapt up and rushed over to him. She squished her friend between herself and Bucky, hoping to surround Peter with a wall of love. Pietro sped out of the room and returned in a matter of seconds with a steamy cup of hot chocolate, handing it delicately to Parker's still-shaking hands.

Dragging the box closer, Spider persevered in his quest, blindly snatching up a few books from the container. The first book, which he recognized, was titled 'Murder on the Orient Express'. Underneath was 'I love you, blue kangaroo'. Then 'Oh, the places you'll go', 'Animal Farm', 'Catch-22', and 'Tell me something happy before I go to sleep'. _So these are the books we used to read_ , he thought in wonder as he took out more literature, recognizing some of the covers– especially the Shakespeare ones. Peter found that the books didn't hit him so hard. They were just books, really. Millions of parents have read these books. But the photos are truly irreplaceable.

The last thing in the large box was a smaller box. These must be the toys Ms. Matthews mentioned. Leaning over he reached his arms inside and pulled out the tinier container with some amounts of angular struggle. Opening the box, he huffed in exhausted amusement at the contents. Then began to release breathy, guttural laugh after laugh when he pulled out various stuffies, piling them onto his lap. Pretty soon, those crazed laughs turned into loud sobs.

Peter was _wrecked_. Drained of any control and energy.

He clutched the stained bunny and ancient dog to his chest, doubling over when he felt a stab of heartbreak in his chest. The stab rapidly turned into clawing, as if his emotional pain was literally ripping up his insides. Words and questions from the others were drowned out by his throaty wails. All he wanted to do was let out his inner turmoil. To break things and cry, just like after that day in the park. But of course, he didn't break anything, no matter how tempting it was. He released his inner hurricane of longing and jealousy by webbing a pillow over and screaming into it for a solid minute.

Panting and wiping his face with a random box of tissues, Peter whispered, voice nearly gravelly "I'll be okay. I just don't know how to feel anymore."

"Talk to us, ребенок паук. _Please_. You've been so different since you came back from the park. We're here for you." Natasha insisted in a motherly fashion, cupping his damp face gently when he didn't protest. She pushed some curls behind his ear and searched his eyes for something, anything, that'd tell her how he felt. However, nothing was found except a pool of honey and a shimmer of uncertainty.

Peter opened his mouth and immediately spilled out everything that was eating at him inside. His jealousy, his longing, his frustration, his self-hate, _everything_.

"I just–" Spider collapsed into Bucky an Shuri's arms when he was done. "I don't w-want or need you to– to c-comment on this. I just _really_ want a hug _please_."

They all moved to hug him, but were stopped when he spoke again, "With everyone?"

FRIDAY took the liberty of calling the other Avengers to the room. By how fast they got in, they assumed she deemed it an 'emergency'.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked, wide-eyed and panicked when he saw Peter's limp figure, "FRIDAY said it was urgent. What happened? Is he hurt? Did he–"

"Tony, _shut up_." Natasha cut off with a growl before the billionaire could ask more questions and possibly frighten the sensitive teen, "He wants a hug. From all of us."

They were unsure if that was a good idea, passing worried glances between each other. However, in the state Peter was in, they were quick to oblige. Surrounding the teenager, they did a huge group hug, making sure not to squeeze too tight so the poor boy could breathe and not feel trapped.

"Thank you." Spider sighed, in the closest thing to content he could be at that moment, when they were done, "I think I really needed that."

The Avengers smiled and nodded, leaving one by one until it was just the originals left.

"Thanks for doing this. Even if it wasn't so fun." He forced a laugh. "I'm, uh, I think I'll go to bed now." The fifteen year-old was still too sick to eat anything.

Saying goodnight, the remaining five began to exit. Peter stopped Bucky before he could even reach the door, hugging him tightly from behind, "I'm scared, Soldier. I don't know what to do with myself anymore." He stepped back and let the older face him "Could you maybe stay? Just until I fall asleep?"

Bucky nodded and complied.

Four days passed and all of the Avengers were gathered in the common room. Even Sam and Rhodey– who had just arrived an hour ago.

Tony, however, was the only person missing.

Peter was confused. They rarely ate breakfast as a group. Bruce was always in his lab. Natasha and Clint would be training now. And the twins worked most mornings nowadays. It seemed as though everyone was excited about something. However, nobody said anything.

"What's going on?" Peter asked, very gently nudging Shuri in the side.

"Oh you don't know. That's right." She laughed, "It's Stark's birthday today. There will be a big party tonight with lots of people. Right now, Rogers is preparing breakfast in bed."

 _Breakfast in bed? Sounds messy_. Peter stuck his tongue out with distaste. "I didn't know it was his birthday." He paused and thought, _Party? With lots of people? Great_. "Are birthdays always this important?" The teenager recalled the photos of his first and second birthdays. They seemed important.

"It depends on the person, but not usually. Stark is just super eccentric. Wait..." The princess' eyes widened and the palm of her hand smacked up to her forehead. "Holy croissant, you don't celebrate your birthday. I completely forgot."

"Not really? Not like this, at least. I usually just got more food than normal and a 'Congrats on turning...'." Shuri just shook her head in disbelief.

A couple hours later, when most of the decor was up and Tony had been wished a happy birthday by everyone, a large beam of light shone briefly outside the Tower.

"The Asgardians are here!" Wanda squealed in delight, excited to practice her magic with Loki again.

 _Asgardians? Thor and Loki?_ Peter knows they're real. He studied them for years, learning all about them and how to possibly kill them. The ding and sliding of the elevator snapped him out of his scarring thoughts. Two men and a woman walked out. One man–Thor–wore a grey-washed denim jacket, a black sweater, a green shirt, and some blue jeans. Loki, on the other hand, wore a black suit. The lady–who he assumed to be the last Valkyrie by her visible tattoo–wore a simple thin white sweater and dark blue gym shorts.

Thor greeted everyone loudly–Loki and Valkyrie already looking annoyed–causing Peter's ears to practically explode. The tall god stopped when he noticed Peter.

"I do not believe I've met you." He said.

Spider felt sorta intimidated by him. Nothing really scared Peter, but with the volume and height of this man, he just wanted to recoil and run away, "N-no, you haven't. I'm Peter Parker."

They shook hands politely.

"Strong grip, young one." Thor commented, clearly impressed.

"Th-thanks." He replied, moving on to the next person.

"Loki." Was all the slender god said, not even sticking out his hand. He just looked... not all there. Nothing like the lively trickster Peter had been warned to be wary of.

"Call me Valkyrie." The tan-skinned girl grinned, analyzing the boy on instinct, then shaking his hand.

After their little introduction, they all sat around the common room, talking about Asgard and New York. It was loud and nearly unbearable but Peter stayed in favour of being polite and the fact that Asgard sounded interesting.

Finally bored with the conversation, he focused on the soft humming of the fridge to sooth his ears. Looking around at the people around him, he noticed that Loki wasn't here. In fact, he hadn't seen Loki for a while. Curious about the god, Peter stood up and slipped away unnoticed.

Climbing up to the sit on the ceiling, he asked FRIDAY where the raven-haired man was, to which she responded with, " _In his guest room. Three doors down from Boss'._ "

"Thanks, FRIDAY." He replied, sneaking towards the modern staircase and padding upside-down to the room. The honey-eyed ex-assassin knocked on the door, quickly jumping down from the ceiling.

The doorknob turned and the door opened, slowly, as though the god was scared of who was knocking. When he saw the child-faced teenager, he visibly relaxed.

"Hi, Mr. Loki."

"Parker. What are you doing here?" There was no venom in his voice, just fatigue.

Peter stared at his eyes. They were beautiful. Mesmerizing. Almost giving off a snake-like feel. The orbs were basil green colour with flecks of a much lighter parakeet green. With his sharp vision, Spider could see the tiniest bits of gold rimming the iris. Behind their shimmering beauty sat, well, nothing. And that was the interesting part about them. When Peter looked into those analytical eyes, he saw the same person he sees in the mirror every morning; A scared, defeated, betrayed, and most importantly lost, child wanting to make up for everything he's ever done– wanting to let out the inner monsoon of torment. Just not knowing how.

Ignoring the question, he had to ask, "Do you trust me?"

"Not particularly." Loki drawled, eyes sparkling suddenly with curiosity.

"Understandable." Peter nodded, huffing out a laugh, "I promise I won't hurt you. I just really need to do something."

Loki sighed but said nothing, eyes back to a dull yet still gorgeous look.

"I just– Okay here we go." Parker took a deep breath, stepped forward so he was in the older's personal space, then wrapped his arms around the god.

Loki tensed but made no move to push him off, "Why?"

"You remind me of myself. I don't know, I don't want to make assumptions but you seemed a little lost, maybe? Like you needed this?" He responded, muffled by the older's dress shirt.

Ever so slowly, Loki lifted his forearms and clasped Peter's back in what could be assumed was a hug as well.

"Thank you." His usual silky, unbothered voice croaked out, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

Peter hummed back, content to allow the man a much-needed break from the walls he had no choice but to build up for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight. Kinda hate this chapter. Sort of. I have mixed emotions. Maybe not as good as it could've been. 
> 
> If you are unable to copy the link at the top and still want to go to the website, type in 'how strong is spider-man?'. Then, click the 'How strong is Spider-Man? - Quora' link. A comic with Spider-Man, Thor, and Hulk should appear. Right below the comic, click 'Continue Reading' for the full article.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this wreck. Sending you hugs and good health,
> 
> -Swindle


	28. Ch 27-Numb again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: So I'm making two books for this. Depending on how this goes, I might make the second book optional, that way if you want to end it at the first book because it feels right, you can. Also because the second book will have some events you might just not be in the mood to read. So, yeah.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys are doing okay and not going insane during these trying times. I send you all my hugs and good health,
> 
> -Swindle

**IMPORTANT A/N AT THE BOTTOM**

**WARNINGS: Mention of self-harm (barely), and a teensy bit of blood**

**3rd POV**

It had been a week since Stark's birthday and Peter was spending his morning in the training room. He had been frequenting the room since his first little expedition here. The double-reinforced punching bags were a huge hit with him. Much like for Steve, they provided a good outlet for his internal frustration and struggles. (As a bonus, his knuckles would bleed and the pain would feel bizarrely comforting). He'd spend hours in that room, to the point where somebody would sometimes have to remind him that food wasn't an option, but a necessity.

Natasha had just left after their sparring match, claiming as she rubbed a bruise forming on her side, 'Superhumans and their ridiculous super-stamina. I swear I can't take this anymore'.

Peter was currently shucking off his completely sweat-drenched shirt, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell. He heard the noise of a door opening behind him, figuring it was somebody coming inside, and shrugged it off, going back to his punching.

Fist after fist collided with the thick leather, loud _thwacks_ echoing of the smooth, white walls. Little droplets of blood from his wrecked knuckles were staining their bandages and splattering the leather, along with dripping all over the place. The hate inside him was almost at a boiling point, each punch losing more and more of control in the power department. Through the white noise of anger and _thwacks_ filling up his ears, Peter heard multiple voices talking in what sounded like amazement. _Huh, that's odd_.

The next punch was his final one, as it had nearly no control at all and ended up ripping the punching bag, sand spilling out onto the floor. That caused all the murmurs to turn into gasps and various astounded comments. _Okay, even weirder_.

Peter looked up towards the source of the noise– a group of teenagers around his age, a man in his either thirties or forties, and a man in his twenties. _Oh, okay that makes more sense. What are they doing here?_ The teens had their jaws agape, eyes wide and confused. Spider suddenly remembered that normal people aren't used to this level of power, especially for someone who is seemingly human and a teenager.

"Hello. May I help you?" He asked in attempt to get them to talk.

The younger of the two men spluttered, unsure of whether he should actually question this kid after seeing him break a punching bag with his _bare fists_ , "I– uh, well– I'm sorry to interrupt anything but, uh, what are you doing up here? These levels are restricted for Avengers and close-friend access."

Peter recalled when Tony had warned him about seeing other people in the tower, specifically the odd tour that might happen on these high floors. He was now aware that the employees of the building and, quite frankly, the world, don't know who he is. So, after Mr. Stark said he could roam around the tower–specifically the training room–as he wished, they sat down to discuss a cover story for the ex-assassin.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal intern." Spider replied simply, "You must be a tour, correct?"

"Y-yeah. We're the Midtown School of Science and Technology's Academic Decathlon team. We were given permission to tour on some of the higher levels because we won the National Championship." The older man replied as the group slowly advanced, then stuck out his hand, "I'm Roger Harrington. N-nice to meet you." His voice cracked under the intimidation of this kid.

"I would shake your hand but I don't think you want blood on that nice shirt of yours." Peter remarked, forcing an easy smile, "I'm Peter Parker. It's a pleasure."

Mr. Harrington nodded and gulped, lowering his hand awkwardly as he eyed the teen's bloodied fists.

"Teenagers aren't offered internships here, let alone be Mr. Stark's personal intern." The guy in his twenties commented, then under his breath, "I didn't know Mr. Stark even had a personal intern." He raised his voice to the regular level again, "Do you have ID?"

Before Peter could respond with a nervous 'no', FRIDAY chimed in, " _You are not authorized to question Mr. Parker on his role here at the tower_."

"S-sorry, FRIDAY!" He yelped, surprised at the AI's voice.

It went silent until a student decided to pipe up and ask him something else, "Dude, you have mad skills. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

Peter, assuming the question was about his demolishing of the punching bag, quickly thought of something on the spot, "I've been studying various forms of martial arts for ten years. Since I became Mr. Stark's intern, I met Ms. Romanoff and she offered to help me train."

"Wicked."

"Awesome."

"Hold on... that means he could've met other Avengers."

"Have you met Captain America?"

"What about Scarlet Witch?"

"Oh my God he was trained by Black Widow. I wish I was trained by Black Widow."

"I wish her thighs would crush me."

"Dude, shut up."

"What's with the scars?"

"Nice abs."

Spider chuckled nervously at the attention, "The scars? I was a... _troublesome_ kid. And I got hurt training a lot." He was thankful the 'Hail HYDRA' brands were covered by bandages or he'd be in big trouble. However, his explanation didn't seem to convince them, given how many scars he had. Graciously, no one asked further on the permanent marks.

"Wait you studied fighting? I've been doing Jiu-Jitsu for ten years!" A dark brown-haired boy with tan skin smiled mischievously, "Wanna fight?"

It was clearly meant to be a fun challenge– a joke. People–including the dude who asked the question–laughed, shaking their heads and saying stuff like, 'No way, you'll be killed'. Peter grinned with them, oddly happy at how normal and innocent these fellow teens seemed.

"I know it was supposed to be a joke, but I'm okay with that."

He looked taken aback, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Then he slowly broke out in a smile, followed by a sly smirk, "I'll go easy on you."

Peter barked a laugh, "I like your spirit, dude. What's your name?"

"Jesse. Thompson. Jesse Thompson."

The ex-assassin nodded and repeated the name, about to say something else when he was interrupted by somebody at the door.

"Peter, there you are. FRI told me you'd be here."

Every student and adult turned at the voice, paralyzed with awe at who it was.

Tony Stark strode into the room in the most nonchalant-Tony-Stark-way possible, "Peter." He noticed the tour group and flashed a quick 'press' smile, "Hey tour group. Hope you're enjoying it here. Peter, Bruce and I need you in the labs. We have an update." Stark noted the teen's sweaty, hand-bloodied state and backed up a few paces, "Gross. Shower and take care of your hand– you have to stop hurting yourself like this, your hands look like Ron Weasley when he was splinched–then come to the labs."

"What about the floor?"

"Don't worry. You can clean it up later." Stark flashed another smile and left.

"Well, nice meeting you. I have to go now. FRIDAY, remind me to clean this up later." The doe-eyed boy called with a wave while also leaving the training room.

As he climbed the stairs, Peter got the peculiar feeling that that wasn't the last time he'd hear the name 'Thompson'.

"I have a sad announcement to make." Shuri abruptly blurted out in the middle of an episode of 'Modern Family'.

Peter turned his focus from the TV, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dark room so he could look Shuri in the eyes, "I'm intrigued. Please, do go on."

The princess cringed and did sharp, saliva-filled intake of air, "You're not going to like this, but I'm going back to Wakanda in a week."

"For a visit?"

"No. I'm staying this time." Shuri replied solemnly, regretting to admit it.

Peter looked crestfallen, tears already threatening to spill at the notion of his closest friend leaving for good, "Why?" He breathed.

"Wakanda is my home and I miss it. Believe me, I love New York, but this isn't my home. I belong in Wakanda with my family and people, serving my country." She also started to tear up.

"So–" the ex-assassin’s voice cracked, and he gulped, "So, I'll never see you again?"

"No, no of course not. I'll visit as much as I can and we'll still spend time in the labs. Maybe– maybe Stark will let you come to my lab in Wakanda! It's way cooler than the one here by the way." She admitted, laughing through her tears at the last statement.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief, but he definitely was not relieved.

"Peter, Peter it's okay." He didn't realize he was shaking until the princess' hands were clamped onto his shoulders, stilling him, "It'll be okay. You know what? We're going to do something really fun before I go. How about... How about going to the mall? You've never been before, it'll be busy, but it could be fun. We'll buy whatever we want, you'll get to experience the joy of mall food, the annoying over-played songs in retail stores, and whatever else." Shuri rambled, her own panic and fear for leaving her friend was swirling in her stomach.

Spider sniffled and forced a smile, turning back to the bright TV screen, "Mhm. Sounds good."

The majority of the week was spent either in the lab, going on walks to Central Park, going to the twins' graduation, or watching whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. Peter ignored the training room in favour of spending limited time with his closest friend. (However, one particularly distressing day was spent cowering and shifting between his personalities due to all the 4th of July fireworks. Sorry, Shuri and Steve).

Thursday–the day before Shuri was scheduled to leave–rolled around, way too fast for comfort. The science duo made their way to the Manhattan Mall via Happy Hogan's Audi. Shuri didn't know if bringing him to such a busy mall was a good idea, but Peter insisted he get the full experience and 'people be damned, I'll be fine'.

So they spent a fun-filled afternoon there, shopping and window-shopping.

"Do you think that would look good on me?" Peter asked curiously, pointing to a pastel yellow crop-top with a cute bee on it. The duo was currently looking for new clothes for the boy– his wardrobe really needed an upgrade.

"It's a girls shirt, you know that, right?" Shuri pointed out, perfectly fine with her friend getting it, but wanting him to know it wasn't typically worn by men.

"I don't understand why clothes are gendered. They're clothes. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up in this world, but I don't see a problem with wearing girls clothes." Peter stuck his tongue out in annoyance at the stereotype.

"That's fine. But what about your scars?"

"I'll cover them like I always do."

"Then it would look fabulous on you." Shuri beamed brightly and Peter grinned back, snatching one of the crop-tops up.

They went on to buy some more 'girl clothes' for Spider, even going so far as to getting a skirt.

By the end of their adventure, they had covered about half the expanse of the huge mall, bought a few bags of clothes, some video games, the newest make-up palette for Shuri, ate some Subway, and bought other random things. It was an overall success, not counting the one time Peter nearly broke down from all the Click-Clacking of the shoes and had to be rushed to a corner so he could get himself together.

Shuri called Happy, explaining that she wanted to walk home, despite the long distance– it was beautiful out and she wanted to embrace her last day in NYC. The teens began their journey to the tower, furthering their window-shopping. Peter rambled on about their latest project– a robot like Dum-E that could help them with their future work.

When he didn't hear Shuri's familiar little huff at his amusing remark about what the bot did yesterday, he knew something was up. The princess always laughed at his jokes, even when they weren't funny. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looked beside him. Surprise, surprise, no princess.

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Spider cursed, _How could I let this happen? My mission is to protect her for gosh sakes, and now she's gone_. He blamed himself for not paying attention more, rather than the higher probability of the noise level blocking him from hearing her disappearance.

Focusing his ears on the sidewalk he just walked up, he could make out the smallest of voices saying, 'hand over your wallet and bags'. _Okay, a mugging. These are on the news sometimes. ...But only when somebody is hurt. Please don't be hurt. I am a terrible friend and bodyguard!_ He panicked, pushing through people to find the gruff voice in the alleyway.

Skidding to a stop where the voice was the loudest, he poked his head into the dark alley. The strong, wafting stench of dumpsters almost made him faint.

"I said, hand over your wallet and bags." The black-clad man repeated, pulling out a gun, "Don't make me hurt you, girl."

Without even thinking or hesitating, Peter found his fist colliding with the guy's cheekbone, sending the mugger toppling over with much more speed than a regular punch. He was out cold, the rip of flesh on his cheek beginning to bleed.

Spider, surprised with himself and not sure what the hell just happened, slowly raised his head, honey eyes meeting nut-brown eyes, "I'm sorry...? I don't really... know what happened."

"No– that's– it's fine. Don't be sorry. I don't know why I didn't do anything, I just kinda... froze up." She looked puzzled with herself, "Thank you though, you saved my life."

 _I saved her life_. Peter couldn't help the stupid grin on his face, _I saved somebody's life! I didn't kill somebody. Oh my God, oh my God._ The teen felt stupidly giddy.

Momentarily snapping out of his overjoyed state, Spider remembered his duties and pressed the button on his bracelet. Natasha arrived a few minutes later. They explained the whole situation and Romanoff called the police, waiting until they arrived before leading the two teens to her car and driving back to the tower.

"What's with the grin, ребенок паук?" The redhead asked as they ascended the elevator.

Peter tried to force his stupid smile away, but it didn't work, "Just glad I got there in time."

Natasha gave him a skeptical look but shrugged it off when the doors slid open, revealing the floor with their rooms. Shuri and Peter immediately waltzed off to the latter's room, laughing about something or other, leaving a confused Nat behind.

"Last order of business: Try on the outfit of my choosing and show the others." The princess announced, already grabbing clothes here and there, judging each one.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Peter sighed with a defeated but easy smile.

"Not really."

After half an hour, Shuri had chosen the most perfect outfit she could find while simultaneously clearing out unwanted clothes from Spider's dresser.

"Go on. They'll love it regardless." The dark brunette reassured, gently guiding Peter to where the majority of the Avengers were gathered around the table discussing something about a Compound.

Peter nervously took a step out, the sole of his hawthorne yellow converse making a faint _thump_ against the limestone floor. However, that was all he needed for Steve to shut up and both he and Bucky to look up, the heads of the others soon following.

Nobody said anything, just stared, making Peter avert his eyes and rock anxiously on his heels, "Shuri told me to show you my outfit. She picked it out."

"Cute skirt. Where'd you get it?" Wanda broke the silence at last, offering a comforting smile and stepping towards the pressured teen.

Peter was wearing his bee crop top, a knee-length black skirt with a simple daisy pattern on it, a baggy white blouse tied loosely around his hips, and a pair pale yellow converse.

"Urban outfitters." He replied, courageous enough to look her in the eyes, but not the others.

"Good choice. I didn't think yellow would suit you this much." Natasha commented, causing Shuri to grin and Spider to blush with a weak smile.

"Huh, I thought blue was your colour. Seems Shuri proved me wrong." Pietro chuckled, patting the teen on the back.

"You look great." Tony complimented. Steve and Bucky nodded along.

"Th-thanks." Peter breathed a sigh of relief when everyone commented something positive, letting him know that dressing in 'feminine' clothes is fine.

"So," Shuri waggled her eyebrows, "what's your favourite part about the outfit?"

"The skirt, maybe? It's not exactly functional or warm like pants, but it's pretty and I love the flowers on it."

"Give us a spin!" Clint called.

Peter was confused but complied, giggling when he found out that the skirt rose a bit when he twirled, "That's so cool."

"Final and most vital of questions: Would you wear this again?" The princess asked in the most serious manner she could muster.

"Definitely. I don't really care how feminine it is, it's nice." He beamed, fiddling with the sleeves of his snow-white blouse.

Shuri squealed in delight and clapped her hands together quickly, "Our trip was a success!"

Peter laughed in agreement, then turned his attention to the papers scattered on the table, "What are those for?"

"We're moving to a facility upstate." Steve replied.

"Permanently?"

"Nope." Stark replied, emphasizing the 'p', "Well, not really. We'll still have this one for most of the interns and meetings with the super-important super-boring old geezers."

"Oh."

"We were gonna move last year but some Vulture guy swooped in a hijacked a plane, costing us a lot of resources." Clint informed. Spider shivered at that name, remembering all the 'fun times' he had with the man. _Building. Crash. Trapped. Help._

"Then we got too busy with missions, charity balls, conferences, and galas to do anything until now." Natasha said, taking a sip of coffee and boring her eyes into the male teen's soul.

"Is that why there are boxes around?" Peter asked, eyes sweeping over the room to take in the sight of boxes stacked in the corners.

"Yep. They have the last of the stuff getting shipped out."

"We're going to finish moving everything in on Saturday." Steve finished, "You'll get to see the facility for the first time."

"Sounds fun." The ex-assassin hummed, entering the kitchen to find some juice.

The next day was shit.

Not for anyone else, really, just Peter. And Shuri.

They stood at the landing pad, air whisking their hair around and forcing them to squint their eyes, hugging each other tightly.

"Please, please, please promise me I'll see you again." Peter sobbed, his voice muffled by his friend's neck.

Shuri, reluctant to go because she knows he has trust issues, was also crying, "Peter, I swear on my life that we will see each other again. It'll be okay."

The princess tried to pull away but Spider's hands clawed at her back in an attempt to keep her close.

"Shuri, we should be going now." T'Challa's accented voice called, unwilling to break the two teens apart.

The dark brunette hushed her lighter brunette friend, running her fingers through his curls, "Shh, it's okay. We'll see each other soon. I have to go though."

Peter's knees gave out and he was soon kneeling on the ground, hands lazily at his side while his curls were whipped into his tear-filled, puffy eyes, adding a physical pain to the whole ordeal.

"Hey, I'm Lesbian." She forced a playful smile

"I–" He choked on an exhausted laugh and wiped a tear, "I thought you w-were American."

With that, Shuri took a deep breath, walked away, and didn't look back, afraid she'd just break down and regret her choice impossibly more than she already does.

Peter watched through his curls as the advanced aircraft lifted into the sky and flew off, disappearing behind the enormous clouds. He didn't move. Or make any noise. Just sat there numbly, letting the silent tears fall and the hurricane of emotions rage in his locked heart.

He sat there past dinner. He sat there until dusk fell, painting the sky purple and pink. He sat there when night blanketed the sky in its vast darkness. He sat there until Bucky had to come and drag him away from the spot he was kneeling in for three hours.

Peter didn't fall asleep that night. But couldn't bring himself to put on Modern Family either. Instead, he dragged his bedside drawer open and fished out his brand-new Stark phone, opening up a music app and putting on the playlist he had from the 30s. It was mostly love songs, but with the slow, simple, melancholic music, he thought it was the closest thing fit his mood.

The next day was the same feeling. No talking to anybody, rarely eating, never entering the lab, no watching TV... Just sitting in his room listening to songs from the first half of the 20th century. Bucky would come in now and then, sitting with his friend and offering the silent reassurance of his mere presence.

The days passed by way too slow for Spider's liking. By now, it was mid July and he wasn't feeling much better. He was prone to self-harm, listening to/reading anything remotely depressing, and phasing between the different aspects of himself. He didn't even look amazed or geek out at the sleek, new Compound. Or be enthusiastic when Rhodey and Sam came to permanently live with them.

He was simply numb.

Inside and out.

Nobody really knew what to do. They couldn't exactly replace Shuri. So, they let time be the solution to this dilemma.

Most of the Avengers were on a big mission today, only a few staying behind. Peter figured he could sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack undisturbed.

To his horrible dismay, he was wrong.

As he opened the fridge, an upbeat song he recognized from the late 30s began to drift around the room– _In the Mood_ by Glenn Miller. The teen knew for a fact that he didn't ask FRIDAY to play anything. Especially not such a happy tune.

He turned around and came face-to-face with Bucky, who was leaning against the counter with a soft smile. The ex-soldier approached him and held out his hand.

"May I have this dance?" He asked smoothly, body language much more casual and relaxed than usual.

"I don't know how." Peter replied and began turning back around, however he was stopped.

"I can teach you." Bucky said with a smile, removing his hand from the teen's shoulder, "One chance is all I ask for. If you don't like it, we can stop."

Spider eyed his calloused palm for a moment before sighing sliding his own hand into it, hoping to just get this over with.

As the music faded into a different song, Bucky finished his explanation on hand positions and different dances for different kinds of songs.

"Ready?"

"I don't think I'll ever be ready."

The Sergeant just chuckled and began to lead Parker along with the now-steadier music. They swayed to the beat, twirling around when appropriate. Peter stepped on Bucky's feet a few times and narrowly avoided them some more times, before getting the hang of it. Barnes would hum along softly, embracing all the happy memories of the part of him he no longer has. Spider wanted to hum too, but chose not to, letting his friend indulge in his sweet recollections.

Peter enjoyed the dancing, strangely enough. It wasn't at all like the kind of stuff he sees in shows or movies, but he's sure he'd prefer this. It felt natural and... Right. Just the two of them in their little moment. Like it was just them in this dim kitchen, practically floating as they moved to the rhythm. He felt safe– enclosed by familiar big, muscular, mismatched, arms that have long since been used by HYDRA.

The teen closed his eyes, putting his full trust in Bucky to guide him through the slow, jazzy song.

Little did he know, the others had just arrived and were now peering at the two from around the corner, weak but warm smiles on their worn-out faces. They watched the two in awe for a few minutes before slowly retreating to their rooms so they could crash.

Peter eventually got tired of the dancing and he was starting to slump against the older man's chest.

"Gettin' sleepy?" Bucky asked quietly.

Spider hummed lazily in reply, giving the dark-haired man the answer he needed. Barnes stopped the music and hoisted Peter up so the younger could cling to him koala-style. He carried the teen to his room and set him down, bidding a quick 'goodnight' before walking down the hall to his own room.

Dancing soon turned into a ritual of sorts. For the next week, each night, the two former HYDRA assassins would get together and dance. Decently normal, right? Well it gets a bit more weird.

The odd part was that the only time these two danced was around two or three am. Since they never got much sleep in general, they were usually awake at the same times. One of them–usually Peter–would knock on the other's door and politely ask to dance, holding out their hand. The recipient would take it and they'd walk down the long hall of bedroom doors to the common room. There, they would dance. Sometimes they'd only dance for a few songs before one got tired. Other times, they'd dance until the sun began to peek over the trees surrounding the Compound.

It was perfect and it made both of them happy.

For Bucky, that was all he needed– the reassurance in knowing he could provide his friend a sense of joy in his troubled life.

However, this little secret activity of theirs wasn't the only secret activity Peter indulged in. Everyday, he'd swing through the trees that bordered the highway, out of sight from the trucks. He'd swing all the way to New York, which is about an hour of swinging. **(I know it's further, go with it).**

When he got there, he'd get changed into a red and blue home-made 'suit', patrol around Queens, and stop criminals for an hour. It was simple and it made Peter unbearably happy– one of the only things that could make him smile these days.

He didn't exactly know why he patrolled only in Queens. Possibly for convenience. Maybe because it was where he used to live. Or because it's where Dorothy lives. Who knows. It was as though he felt a gravitational pull to the burrow.

One of the difficult parts of this was the outfit. He used old sweaters, fabrics, and goggles to make it. Not to mention his barely-there sewing skills. Spider still refused to go in a lab, and if he snuck in, somebody would either see or be alerted. Which sadly meant he couldn't make a sleek, awesome, useful one like he wanted. Though he didn't complain. It's not like he ever really got hurt– merely the odd scratch here or there when he was being careless.

The last issue and reason why he never told anybody is because he's scared of what they'd think. He comes from a horrible, horrible place of murder, violence, and torture. Somebody as messed up and horrendous as he is should not be doing stuff like this. Peter doesn't want this being taken away from him– it's one of the best things that's happened to him, even though it's only been a week. He won't be able to stand the disapproving glares and disappointed head-shakes when the word gets out to them that he has a small crime-fighting gig in the Big Apple. Spider just keeps quiet and lets them keep their 'ignorance is bliss'-type shtick.

Natasha probably suspected something. All the others knew was he liked to go swinging through the forest, way up to the shore, and back. The media doesn't know about him yet either, which is honestly quite shocking. Parker keeps hidden enough that people never see him. Victims give him a truckload of mixed reactions. Some are grateful to him for saving their lives and others are terrified, saying stuff like 'leave it to the police, stupid kid' while attempting to swat him with their purse or something.

Peter doesn't mind. It's rewarding enough just to save someone and know that they are or will be okay.

So he cheerfully keeps it up.

Somewhere in New York...

"Any news on him?" A thick, accented voice asked impatiently on a screen.

"Not yet, sir." Another voice replied, younger.

"It's been months and you have nothing? Useless vermin." The man barked.

"It's not exactly my fault they're keeping him close." He retorted and rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, "He's barely left the Tower or the Compound–except for his little vigilante stunt–so I can't get anywhere."

"You better get somewhere fast or I'll just shut you down and you won't get your petty revenge."

The younger fellow began to pace, scratching the back of his neck, "You need me for this. I have someone on the inside, sir, but he hasn't seen enough of the boy to gather any valuable information."

"That's progress, I suppose. But I'm getting rather impatient." The accented voiced eased.

"I thought HYDRA was all about patience?" Pacing-man chuckled.

"Don't test me. We both need this to work so we can get what we want." He replied sharply. "Now, do you remember the plan?"

"How could I forget." The guy mumbled.

"Louder."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I expect a report again tomorrow." With that, the screen went black, leaving the man all by himself.

"Well, Peter Parker, let's hope you're in the right place at the right time tomorrow and maybe, just maybe, I won't get yelled at." He commented sulkily.


	29. Ch 28-Happy Broadway- I mean, Birthday

**WARNING: Non-explicit Rape (I'll mark it with three ***), a bit of swearing**

**IMPORTANT A/N AT THE BOTTOM**

**3rd POV**

"You know the plan?"

A new male nodded in affirmation, "Of course I do."

"You better not disappoint me." One of the previous male's snarled.

He scoffed, a flash of something feral behind his cobalt eyes, "I don't plan on it."

"Oh, and Skip, do whatever you want with him. It makes no difference to me, as long as he lives." The man turned and walked out the deserted museum doors.

A sadistic grin spread on his face as he ran his fingers through his already slick-backed hair, "Don't worry, he'll be in _such_ good condition when I'm through with him."

It was late July and Peter had succumbed to the intense inner pull of the labs. (Could you blame him)?

At the moment, he and Banner were at the tower, helping some of the higher-up interns there. It was late–night had already fallen–and only two people were left, excluding them. One lady was over in the corner, figuring out something about the Arc Reactor core of the tower and how the same kind of design could power a robot she wanted to make. On the other side of the room, closer to the two geniuses, was a man in his early twenties–extremely rare for such high floors–unintelligibly muttering to himself about some equation.

"Dr. Banner, c-could I talk to you about s-something private?" Peter stuttered, placing his pencil down but not removing his eyes from his paper.

"Sure, Peter, what's wrong?" The older scientist gave the teen his full attention.

"Well, I, uh, I was thinking of going to high school."

"Oh?" Bruce's eyebrows raised and he smiled, "Have you researched any schools?"

"A few." Spider confessed with a forced laugh, barely meeting the Dr.'s eyes, "I was thinking of Midtown School of Science and Technology."

"Well, that's a very good choice. It's a great school." He hummed, "Have you told anyone else about this?"

Peter shook his head, "I don't think I'm allowed to go to school."

Bruce's lips quirked into a frown and his brows furrowed. Then he offered a small, reassuring smile, "Don't worry. I'll see what I can do."

Spider beamed up at him and they continued their work, packing up when they got tired.

"See ya, Skip. Don't forget to lock up." Peter yawned through his reminder as he followed Bruce out.

"Don't worry, Einstein, I will. Have a good night."

In the now-empty lab–save for one person–Westcott grinned wolfishly to himself, packing up his things and leaving– making sure to lock up, of course.

Let's just say the mysterious man from before was quite pleased with this new information.

August 5th.

Five days before Peter's fifteenth birthday.

The teen did not expect to return from his 'forest swinging' to find Shuri lounging on the couch with Sam and Steve.

"Shuri!" He called excitedly. The princess turned at the voice, beamed, and sprinted towards him, nearly knocking him over with the force of her hug.

"Shuri," Spider gasped breathlessly when she let go. "Wha– what are you doing here?"

"It's your sweet sixteen in five days, like hell I'll miss it."

"My what?"

"Your sweet sixteen?" Shuri sighed when he didn't look anymore understanding, "You're turning sixteen. Your birthday is in five days."

"Oh." Was all he replied with, forgetting that he even had a birthday.

"'Oh'? Jeez, you seem so excited." She teased playfully.

"It's not like birthdays are that important. You're just one day closer to dying."

"Thanks for that positive revelation." The princess rolled her eyes, "We're celebrating. It'll be your first day away from that hell– it's one-hundred percent worth celebrating."

Spider shrugged and said nothing.

"So... My gift to you will be a few days early because it simply can't wait." She tilted her chin up in a proud manner, "I got us all tickets to see the opening of Hamilton on Broadway tomorrow."

"You must be kidding." He choked. Peter had seen the previews and was completely in on the hype. He's been wanting to see it for a while. When Shuri just grinned, he knew she wasn't joking, "Oh. My. God. You really got us tickets?"

"All of us." She confirmed giddily, not able to contain her own thrill.

"This is– _Thank you_." Parker breathed out, tears of joy escaping his eyes as he hugged his best friend tight.

"No–ugh–problem." Shuri coughed, winded from the embrace.

The next day was wild and awesome and beautiful and just everything.

Seriously, nothing could compare to it. They met a lot of celebrities there, which was, well, _super cool_. But the absolute best part, aside from the production itself, was when they met the cast.

Every single one of them was as awesome in person as onstage.

Peter geeked out about practically everything with most of them. Whether it was books or movies, he could find something to talk about with them. The cast, in return, geeked out with him (and over the freakin' Avengers). All members of the musical thought Parker was incomparably cute– which he laughed about when it was mentioned later, then sobered up when he saw that Bucky wasn't joking.

They wished him a happy birthday and sung him a glorious rendition of the song. Spider was too busy being in awe of their musical talent to care about the fact that they were singing a song about something he didn't even care much about.

By the end of the night, the entire cast had been talked to by one Peter Parker.

And one Peter Parker was immeasurably overjoyed.

August 9th.

One day before Peter's birthday.

It was mid-afternoon and Tony was, as usual, holed up in his lab. He was trying to come up with new arrows for Clint, but wasn't having much luck after the first six ideas.

What he needed was a second opinion. And a cup of coffee.

"FRI, where's Peter?"

" _He just jumped out the window, boss_."

Tony choked on his spit, causing some of it to fly onto the table. He began to wipe it off with a spare rag, "I'm sorry _what_?"

" _Don't worry, he is Spider-Man_." If an AI could laugh, FRIDAY would be cackling.

"Spider-Man?" He echoed, too bewildered and confused to say anything.

FRIDAY took the liberty to pull up anything matching 'Spider-Man' on the internet. Five results came up. Three of them were videos of Peter swinging through the streets. One of them was a short blog about 'the mysterious masked vigilante'. The last was the Daily Bugle writing an article about him in a bad light.

Tony chose the videos to start. The first one was short– five seconds of him flying by and webbing up a guy trying to steal a car. Video two was of him swinging in and stopping a car from crashing into a bus with his bare hands. Impressive. The final video was Peter swinging from building to building, but on top of being the longest one, it also was the first (four days old) and had the most views.

The blog discussed questions like 'Who is this guy?', 'Who's under the mask?', 'Where did he come from?', and 'Is he a hero?'. The Daily Bugle wrote him off as a 'vigilante' and a 'menace'. It really seemed as though nobody knew about him yet. And those few who did, didn't see him as a good guy.

"FRI, how come you never told me about this?" The billionaire questioned as he skimmed through the article for the third time. He always suspected Peter wasn't just 'going for a swing' during the afternoons, but didn't think he'd be doing something like this.

" _You never asked, boss. Mr. Parker did not tell me not to tell you, however he also did not tell me to tell you_."

Stark could practically hear the smirk in her voice. He cursed to himself and blankly stared at the information, thinking of how to approach the teen about this.

So Peter was running around in a onesie trying to stop bad guys.

Great.

August 10th.

The day of Peter's 'sweet sixteen'.

The teenager was awoken by two strong hands gently shaking his torso.

"Kid, hey, kid. Wake up." An unused, low voice said.

Spider lazily blinked his crust-filled eyes open, still caught in a sleepy haze, "Soldier? Wha..." he was too tired to finish the sentence, whining and shoving his face back into the pillow.

"Peter, wake up. There's somethin' I wanna show ya." Bucky shook harder, debating on forcefully dragging the teen out of bed.

Annoyed by his perseverance, Peter groaned loudly and lifted his head back up, honey eyes eventually zeroing in on the alarm clock beside him, causing him to whine louder, "Soldier, it's five-ten in the morning. What could you possibly need?"

"Sun rises at five fifty-six. I promised you I'd take you to see one one day. Today's your birthday so why not? Happy birthday, by the way." Bucky was acting a bit like Steve today– an excited golden retriever with a huge grin. Peter could've sworn he saw a tail wagging too. This was certainly not regular Barnes.

"I–" He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes and rolling over onto his back so that he could face the man properly, "Thanks, I guess? I-" it was too early for this shit, "I went to sleep at four this morning, have some sympathy."

"My fault." Soldier grinned sheepishly, remembering the excessive dancing and calming down from a traumatic nightmare the night before, "But this can't wait. Get up, we leave in ten minutes."

Spider yawned and made a noise that could only be classified as a defeated moan. He shook his head in effort to banish the last of his foggy sleep-muddled mind, but only really succeeded in furthering his bed head. As a last resort–and technically requirement for getting up–Peter threw off his bedsheets, shivering aggressively when breezy Air Conditioning came in contact with his non-pajama'd skin.

Meandering through his regular routine–minus the shower and breakfast–he got ready right when they had to leave. Bucky hastily led him down to the garage and towards his motorcycle, where two containers where strapped to the back of the shiny metal death machine. Giving negative shits, Peter hopped on behind his friend and held tight as they sped through the less-busy streets of Manhattan.

They wound up at a harbor overlooking the sea and another part of New York. It was quiet here, only a few sailors bustling about, getting ready for their long day of fishing. Bucky pulled an old, torn blanket from the motorcycle's containers, along with multiple PB&J sandwiches. Laying it all out at the end of a disused dock, he eagerly patted the spot beside him, to which Peter took without hesitation.

Not even a minute goes by and the slightest bit of purple appears in the sky. It grows and grows by the second, until cotton candy and flamingo hues of pink twist in alongside it, staining the clouds in its wake. Bright neon orange that nearly hurts the eyes bleeds in with it, complimenting yet striking the other two colours, leaving nothing for the eyes to be dissatisfied about. A blazing ball of yellow rises as sluggishly as a snail, bringing with it the most pale of yellows– which mutes the other colours too. Each hue, hot and cold, melt into another like poetry, creating this fuzzy, pastel masterpiece. They roll and twist through that insignificant sliver of sky, turning it into something desirable.

Their thin veil of colours eventually fades into a jarringly perfect shade of cornflower blue as the sun sits comfortably on the waterline. Peter smiles, as content as can be, and finishes his sandwich.

"That was..." He trailed off, too captivated by all that glory to even think of how to express his inner thoughts.

"Nice, right?" Bucky smiled.

"Better than nice!" Spider exclaimed loudly, throwing his hands up, then murmured, "We need to do this again."

Barnes chuckled, "Yeah, better than nice."

Returning from the events of the early morning, Peter followed the scent of chocolate-chip and banana pancakes to the kitchen table.

"Happy Birthday!" Everyone cheered quietly.

"Oh, thank you." He replied with a forced smile, unsure of what to reply with or expect of the rest of the day.

Spider sat down and a plate of steamy, mouth-watering pancakes was placed in front of him, along with whip cream and syrup in case he wanted them.

"Smells amazing." The teen took a bite and swallowed it down, "Tastes amazing too. Thank you."

Steve smiled and nodded, then sat down across from him, eating his own pancakes.

Shuri, ever the party-enthusiast, took it upon herself to announce the day's events, "So, Peter, for your birthday, my brother, the Asgardians, and some friends are coming over for dinner and staying the night. But before that, we're doing whatever you want all day."

"Whatever I want ?" He echoed indifferently, taking a bite of his pancakes.

"That's the point." Shuri's face fell, but she understood why her friend wouldn't treat his birthday differently than any other day.

" _Star Wars_ marathon sounds good." Peter finally mentioned.

After the first trilogy, they took a break for lunch. Tony seized this opportunity to drag Parker to his room for a little interrogation.

"Mr. Stark, I don't know–"

"Ah, ah. Me first." He cut him off, "Quick question of the rhetorical variety." The man pulled out his phone and a hologram of a Spider-Man video started playing, "That's you, right?"

"Um, no. What are you– What are you–"

"Yeah. Look at you go. _Wow_ , nice catch. Three-thousand pounds. Forty miles an hour. It's not easy. You got mad skills."

Peter knew he was caught. He knew it was over for him. But he continued to deny it, "That's, uh, that's all on YouTube though, right? I mean, that's where you found that? 'Cause you know that's all fake. It's all done on a computer. It's like that video..." He rambled, fiddling with a computer he was working on so he didn't have to look at the genius– who was currently looking for his suit.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, you mean those UFO's over Phoenix?" Tony played along, grabbing a thin, long metal piece that was leaning against the desk, then reaching way up to pop a vent open. A ball of red and blue tied in string came tumbling out and Peter jumped to catch it, throwing it onto his hamper. He turned back around to reluctantly face the philanthropist.

"So, you're the Spider-ling– crime-fighting Spider? You're Spider-boy?" Stark teased with a serious expression.

"S-Spider-Man." Peter corrected, letting his gaze drift away from the man as his body slumped against the wall.

"Not in that onesie, you're not."

"It's not a onesie." Peter commented with a bit of bite and walked towards his desk, leaving Tony to look at his suit in the hamper.

"Who else knows? Anybody?"

Spider shook his head, "Nobody."

"Not even Dorothy or Shuri?" The teen and ex-agent had gotten close over the past few weeks (lots of phone-calls and lunches in some bodega), so Stark was willing to believe he'd tell her.

"No. Shuri probably knows anyway though. Ms. Romanoff too."

"You know what I think is really cool? This webbing," He tossed a small metal device at the teen's head, which he caught without a passing glance. "The tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured it?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"I did." Peter confessed, chucking the small case into his hamper. He'd been making his own web fluid after doing some research on Oscorp– where Dorothy admitted his father worked for cover. Parker liked it substantially better than his own webs–which used up a lot of energy–despite it having to be manufactured.

"Lordy, you made this?" Tony prodded the sewn-together outfit and the black goggles.

Spider, feeling quite proud of making it, frowned and snatched it away, "Yes, I did actually."

"You're in dire need of an upgrade. Systemic, top to bottom." He made circular hand gestures to the entirety of Parker's being, "Hundred-point restoration– that's why I'm here."

It fell silent as Peter sat down, only the slight creak of the bed breaking the stillness.

Tony leaned back, "Why you doing this? I gotta know. What's your MO? What gets you outta this place every afternoon?"

"Because..." Peter shied away from his gaze at first as he fumbled his words, "Because I've been me my whole life, and I've had these powers for eleven years or so." Tony made a grunt of acknowledgement, "I read books. I build computers. And yeah, I'd love to be a hero. It makes me feel good. The public doesn't know me or my history. To them, I _could_ be a hero. But to you guys? I wasn't one then. So why should I even try to be one now?"

"Sure, 'cause you're afraid of what we'd say." Tony suggested helpfully, but didn't like the way the words felt in his mouth or the way Peter seemed to connect with them.

"Exactly. But I can't tell any of you, so I'm not." His head turned to the side for a brief moment, down at his open palm, then back to the adult in the room, "When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you."

Tony leaned forward, looking the teen in his honey eyes.

"I'm tired of being the bad thing, Mr. Stark."

Spider's eyes began to gloss with tears.

Stark looked down, taking a moment to think about what this teenager just said.

_I'm tired of being the bad thing._

"So you want to look out for the little guy? You wanna do your part. Make the world a better place and all that, right?" He concluded, starting to feel uncomfortable discussing this.

"Yeah, yeah. Just looking out for the little guy." He sighed, "'S what it is."

Tony awkwardly sat beside him and patted his shoulder, then left the room.

The rest of the day went fine. Guests started arriving and food started cooking.

Peter got more acquainted with the Wakandan royals, including Nakia and Okoye. He said hello to Thor, who bear hugged him until he felt sick, and to Valkyrie, who just nodded and grinned. Loki met his eyes for a fleeting moment, conveying a message. Spider knew what the basil orbs were telling him. He briefly hugged the god, to everyone's surprise (and Tony's utter confusion/dismay). Dorothy and Scott–who he had barely met before–also showed up and they chatted for a while.

Fury, Hill, and somehow, Coulson, showed up to the party. They brought red wine, some beer, and made themselves perfectly at home. Peter was a little bit intimidated by Hill, but not Fury. The two had all met briefly at Stark's party before the teen left with Bucky because everything had been too much.

It was like those relatives you don't know but they know you. You know, the ones who go 'You're so grown up!' and 'Still playing soccer?'. Except without the talking, just the awkwardness.

They ate all kinds of salads, spaghetti with meatballs, Perogies, stuffed jalapeño peppers, mac'n'cheese, and Natasha's famed Pelmeni.

After their food, they sat and talked for a bit– mostly updates about Asgard, Wakanda, and the new SHIELD HQ. They kept the conversation as generic and open as possible, that way Peter wouldn't feel uncomfortable or like he was in the spotlight.

"Okay, time for cake!" Clint announced, interrupting Natasha, who looked less than amused. When nobody answered, his smile only widened and he clapped his hands together, "Fabulous, no objections."

Most of the others sighed, laughed, or both as the archer put candles in all the cakes. (Yes, there were more than one. Four huge ones to be exact. With all the super-powered humans, gods, and sheer amount of people, multiple cakes are necessary).

They began to sing and Peter bore holes into the table cloth, hoping the god-forsaken song would just end. Thankfully, his prayers were answered and everyone–everyone as in everyone under twenty-five, Scott, and Clint–started chanting 'Make a wish'.

"Uh, I wish–"

Shuri's hand slapped over his mouth before he could finish, "You can't tell us, otherwise it won't come true." She hissed, "In your head."

"Oh, okay." He thought it was kind of stupid, but didn't object. What was he supposed to wish for? Something good... something for all of them.

I wish... I wish everything would be okay for all of us.

Peter blew out the candles on all three cakes and everyone clapped, cheering a bit too loudly for satisfaction. Tony, Clint, and Steve began to cut the cakes, offering the first piece to the birthday boy.

They all enjoyed their dessert, the most recent topic being rare (presumed) sightings of the Lizard on the news.

"Okay, I can't take this agonizing wait anymore, somebody get the presents." Shuri huffed, slumping in her seat. The other Wakandans gave her looks that said 'shut up' but she grinned and proudly ignored them.

"Presents?" Peter muttered, cocking his head in confusion.

"Birthdays require presents." Clint called as he disappeared towards Tony and Steve's room with the room's occupants in tow.

"You– you didn't have to." Spider felt a little guilty. Presents require money. Money is precious. They wasted precious money on him. And time. Time is also money.

"Ah, but we wanted to." Wanda smiled, guiding him towards the couches with the rest of them.

Peter flopped down into Bucky's left side, his legs crossing and resting on Natasha's lap, "What are we doing over here?"

Not a single soul answered him as the three men returned, carrying quite a few gifts.

"Tada!" Clint whooped, raising one of the gifts high above his head as he neared the confused teenager, "I present to you, a gift from moi."

Peter, in a state of perplexion and remorse, reluctantly took the colourfully-wrapped box, surprised at the weight as he brought it to his lap. On the top sat a tiny piece of paper saying 'Happy Birthday' with too many exclamation points than necessary. Carefully running his finger down the seam, tearing it as he went, Peter opened the package, unfolding the wrapping paper with a certain amount of delicacy. Inside he found a gold box titled 'Trivial Pursuit; _Star Wars_ '.

"Woah. Awesome." Peter had played the _Harry Potter_ Trivial Pursuit, but not the _Star Wars_ one. He didn't even know it existed, (though in retrospect, he should've known), "Thank you, Mr. Barton."

Clint gave thumbs-up and a grin while Natasha handed him her gift. It was also wrapped, but he noticed that it was easily bendable and squishy. Peter opened it as skillfully as the other. When his hand brushed up against something velvety, a smile if anticipation spread on his face. He pulled the squishy thing out, gasping in surprise when a cool grey blanket drooped into his lap, along with a white bar and cord.

"You got me a blanket?" He laughed, bringing the silky fabric up to his head so he could giddily smoosh his face into it.

"Not just any blanket. It's a heated blanket. This bar here has settings. Low, Medium, and High. I figured since you're so cold all the time, it could be useful." Natasha informed helpfully, a small smile playing on her lips as she nursed her glass of wine.

"Thank you." Peter beamed brilliantly, leaning over the hug the fellow ex-assassin.

The next gift was from Vision, who had gotten him Lavender and Sandalwood candles after hearing about the teen's delightful trip to Bath & Body Works with Shuri.

Pietro and Wanda bought him the full _The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy_ collection, claiming it was one of the best series in the history of the universe.

Sam bought him some English Ivy and Peace Lilies because he knew Peter wanted plants to put in his room.

The Asgardians forged him some sort of traditional blade– which he found wicked. Seriously, it was _so_ sharp. He accidentally pricked his finger even though he was barely touching it. Tony nearly had a heart attack over it, telling Thor that it 'Wasn't an appropriate gift for a sixteen year-old, no matter the background'. But Peter gladly kept it.

The Wakandans got him Kimoyo beads to easily keep in touch with Shuri. And an invitation to visit them whenever he liked.

Dorothy gave him a thin package, telling him to open it alone, and some fairy lights to decorate his room. Scott got him a mug that when you heat up, it has a picture of Obi-Wan saying 'It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground'.

Pepper couldn't make it because she was in Brazil, but she got him an expensive and high-quality pair of noise-cancelling headphones

Bruce announced that he got him an audition for Midtown School of Science and Technology. He explained that everyone agreed to his idea, thinking that a school would be a good idea for his social skills and personal sense of normality. Banner said that he'd have to go to the school to be auditioned/tested the next day. Peter nearly cried at this– he was overjoyed at the prospect of going to high school.

"Stevie and I's gifts go together." Bucky said as Steve brought over two big boxes.

 _Those are the biggest boxes yet. The hell could be in there?_ Spider pondered when the bigger of the two was handed over. He had to sit up properly to open this one. The card was longer than the others, written with small, squished print that he then learned belonged to Bucky. His heart swelled considerably at the sweet message.

When the wrapping paper was first slit open, the smell of leather drifted into his nostrils. And not just any leather, it smelled old and rustic, like a mix of motor oil and metal. Some may not like this smell, but Peter loved it. It transported him to a different time where there were different problems, liquor, and elegant, jazzy music.

Parker, too keen to care about being delicate, tore off the remainder of the striped yellow paper. Inside was a tawny leather box with a black handle and tall mesh ovals spaced thinly around the sides of the handle. Walnut wood was visible around the seam of the lid and where the handle/speakers were. A shiny gold clasp and golden hinges connected the larger bottom portion to the slimmer lid. Holding the corners in his hands, the teenager ran his thumbs along the sides, taking in the feel of aged leather and polished wood. The box was cracking and chipping in a few places, evident that it was an old container– but Peter didn't have a care in the world for that sort of thing.

He unclasped the clip and carefully opened the top, wincing yet smiling at the creak it gave off. Inside was an elevated black circle, a crooked needle, and a little dial for volume. The interior of the lid was a soft off-white fabric while the base was a lighter wood than the exterior. Spider's lips widened into a dopey grin as he ran his fingers back and forth along the old record player.

"Where did you find this?" He murmured without taking his eyes off the glorious machine.

"We got it specially made. A friend of Stevie's got a son that builds and restores antique furniture. He agreed to make this for you." Bucky replied, happy that Peter was in awe of his gift.

A few people muttered stuff like, 'man, that's not fair' and 'how am I supposed to top this next year?'.

"What am I gonna–" Spider started but was interrupted when Bucky nudged him and pointed to Steve, who was offering his gift with an equally dopey grin.

Peter took the skinnier–but still not very skinny–square gift. This one was a brown paper package tied up with string. He loosened the scratchy thread with ease and unfolded the paper. The contents was a stack of albums. They varied from the 1920s to the 2010s– a few of Parker's favourite albums for each decade.

He almost started to cry. How could people care enough about him to get him all these gifts?

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Peter laughed and wiped the wetness from the corner of his eyes, fiercely hugging the two supersoldiers.

"One more gift!" Tony announced delightfully, half drunk and spilling his whiskey. He started to stand up, but stumbled just a little. Rhodey sighed and apologized for his friend, helping him up the stairs.

They stumbled back down a few minutes later, Tony looking uncharacteristically concentrated on the cardboard box he was holding. Rhodey held a smaller box in his one hand while supporting his elated friend with the other.

"I present to youuu, your sweet sixteen gift." Stark slurred slightly as he placed the container on Peter's lap, cursing while he tripped over Bucky's feet on the way back to his seat.

The teenager chuckled at his drunken behaviour, turning his attention to the box.

...Which was now moving.

And also had little holes in it.

A scuffling noise came from inside. It sounded almost like scratching along with a tiny yawn.

Peter, now in a state of utter confusion, began to unfold the box, unsure of what he would possibly find. The final two folds were pulled back and Spider peered in, meeting the sleepy eyes of a kitten.

A kitten.

Stark got him a goddamn kitten.

"Oh. My. God." Shuri exclaimed from on the coffee table in front of him, dumbfounded.

"This is– wha– how– mine?" Peter spluttered, reaching in and scooping up the little animal, "You– you got me a cat?"

"Yep." Tony responded proudly.

"I pitched in for the food and toys." Rhodey offered a smile and a shrug, "It's our gift to you. She's a two-month old Abyssinian."

"Does she– does she have a name?"

"Nah. You can name her."

Peter was stumped. What could he name her? He studied her short-haired, pale ginger and white coat, slim build, tall ears, dark face markings, and wide lemon-mint eyes.

She swatted at his sweater's drawstrings, meowed loudly, pawed his arm, and gave him a challenging look.

"Tanya." Peter said, meeting her large eyes.

"Peter, I swear to God, is that a Mamma Mia reference?" Tony asked, the only reply being a sly grin and a nod. The billionaire sighed and took a long sip of his whiskey.

"You're so small and innocent and tiny and helpless. Your can do nothing to defend yourself if some– OhMYGOD NO." Spider had to swiftly snatch up Tanya before she fell off the couch, "Jesus Christ you can't be doing that." He stared into her eyes and whispered, "I've only had you for a few minutes but I would do anything for you."

"Can I hold her?" Bucky whispered. Peter nodded and handed the small creature to him. Tanya looked so much smaller and more pure is his large, battle-worn hands. She crouched down and pounced literally a millimeter to latch her teeth onto his metal thumb. Buck frowned as he pried the reluctant kitty off of his thumb, "Don't do that, you'll hurt your teeth."

Everybody took turns holding the minuscule feline, cooing at her charming eyes and 'fierce' meows.

Peter looked around the room, eyes landing on each of its occupants, then to the gifts on the floor and coffee table. His heart swelled immensely, an overjoyed grin plastered on his cute face. The teen was afraid his heart would burst out of his chest with how quick it was beating. His soul was on fire, as colourful and warm as the sunrise that morning. Tears spilled from Spider's eyes and he rushed to wipe them off, afraid of ruining the mood of the party.

"Oh Peter, what's the matter?" Dorothy asked.

"N-nothing." He admitted truthfully, flashing the biggest grin they've ever seen him sport, "I'm just so, so _happy_. Nobody's ever done this a-and I've never had a birthday or–or anything so this is just _really nice_." Spider laughed breathlessly, waving his hand back and forth in reassurance.

People smiled softly at his confession and let him calm down before,

"We're not drunk enough. We need to play Never Have I Ever." Tony mumbled around the rim of his glass.

"Tony." Steve warned.

"What?"

"He's sixteen. Not an adult."

"CapriSuns are the liquor of children."

It was clear Steve wasn't going to win, especially against a drunk Tony– it's kind of impossible because of the sheer chaos levels.

Natasha, Hill, and Scott got up to get alcohol and non-alcoholic drinks. They returned with some trays and handed everyone their drinks. Shuri and Peter got CapriSuns. Wanda got Sprite while Pietro had Dr Pepper. Bucky chose a Grapefruit Sanpellegrino over alcohol, declaring that since he couldn't get drunk, there was no point in drinking alcohol. Scott chose orange juice and Bruce had water. Everyone else drank alcohol. Vision, Dorothy, and Fury decided not to participate.

They explained the rules to Peter and got started.

Tony was the first, "Never have I ever... had braces."

Bruce, Clint, Scott, and Hill drank.

Steve next, "Never have I ever... gone cliff jumping."

Pietro, Wanda, Coulson, Hill, Clint, Natasha, Scott, Bucky, Tony, and Sam drank.

Bucky, "Never have I ever... ran a red light. And I'm not talking about for a mission."

Tony, Sam, Scott, and Natasha drank.

"Never have I ever... been to school." Peter said hesitantly.

Everybody in the room except for the Wakandans and the Asgardians–who had tutoring–drank, cursing at him for his lack of world experience. Spider laughed and victoriously high-fived Shuri.

"Never have I ever... dyed my hair blue." Natasha announced.

Clint, Pietro, and Scott took a sip.

It went around the circle once, then as it passed a second time, Wanda said, "Uh, shit I don't know, never have I ever... smoked?"

All the adults, including–to their surprise–Thor, Loki, T'Challa, and Nakia drank.

But the worse part was when Scott pointed out that Peter was drinking.

Natasha squinted her eyes, "You've smoked?"

"Excuse me _what_?" Pietro exclaimed.

"When?" Bucky breathed at the same time Tony slurred. Steve stared at him in confusion and almost-disappointment.

"Spill the tea." Shuri muttered.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, tilting his head down and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "Uh, haha, well... you see, I was at a low point in my life. Maybe two years ago? I think I was thirteen." He muttered, receiving shocked looks, before getting back on track, "I had reached a new low in my life at the time. For a while, I had... _sociopathic_ tendencies. I didn't care what I did or what happened to me."

He shivered, the twisted memories piecing themselves back together to form one big traumatizing event. Petting Tanya helped him calm down. Peter made eye contact with Wanda, her eyes questioning and searching. He nodded, trusting her, and her eyes went crimson. She was there for only a few seconds, eyebrows knitted in confusion, morphing to surprise, then to horror, mouth hanging open.

"Okay, nope. Never going back there." The witch gagged as a reaction to what she saw, making X-motions with her arms.

People were curious, but didn't say anything as they silently moved on.

It was almost twelve by the time most of them were drunk–or in Tony's case–hammered. The sober people helped the drunk ones up the stairs to their rooms. Fury drove Hill and Coulson home while Dorothy and Scott said a quick goodbye, going their separate ways.

Late that night, while everyone was asleep, Peter opened the slim package from Ms. Matthews while humming along the to Andrew Sisters on his new record player. The smell of more leather wafted up from the gift as he unwrapped a briefcase. It was nice and shiny with a gold clasp saying 'RP'– he could only assume meant 'Richard Parker'. A note was attached to the top.

_Dear Peter,_

_This briefcase used to belong to your father. He used it every day for his work at Oscorp. I didn't put it in the box with the other items because I wanted it to be yours and yours only. Nobody else should see it unless you want them to. Inside are some of your father's old things, including copies of some important documents that, if should they fall into the wrong hands, could be fatal to you and your friends. I trust you to look after them._

_Sincerely,_

_Dorothy Matthews_

He was puzzled about the documents. _Important documents? Why leave them with me?_ Peter shrugged and opened the briefcase, hearing things jiggle around at the bottom. Inside he pulled out a calculator, some pens, an ID card for Oscorp, an old phone, some coins, a pencil, and a pair of glasses.

Spider tried on the glasses, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. It was kinda hard since the glasses made his vision a little blurry, but he thought he looked okay. He took them off and went back to the briefcase. However, he didn't find any documents inside. _Weird_. Dorothy said they'd be in here.

After a few minutes, he sighed and gave up, too tired to care. But when he lifted the bag up by one corner, a soft sliding against leather sounded clearly in his enhanced ears. Confused, Peter tilted the bag another way and the thing inside slid again. Looking in every pocket and crevice, he found nothing. The opening of the pocket on the back was a little lower than normal, so he ran his fingers along the top. _Bingo_. Reaching into the hidden compartment, he pulled out a few documents and a small paper square.

The paper square was a photo of his dad and some man in the news. The documents had two red, important-looking Ø's. Peter opened them up and found scribbled writing about 'Cross-species genetics' and 'Decay rate algorithm'. There were multiple equations, however one was circled in red marker with arrows pointing to it. Apparently, it was the solution to what he was trying to figure out.

 _Cross-species genetics_. Peter's eyes widened, his mind piecing it all together, _That's me right?_

Furiously Google searching his dad, he came across the name 'Dr. Curtis Connors'– the half-armed guy in the photo. After doing some research about how the Cross-Species genetics research failed, how his parents died in a plane crash, and how Norman Osborn–the founder of Oscorp–died half a year ago, Spider typed 'Dr. Curtis Connor' in the search bar. The results were both recent and old news reports. Scrolling through them, he found out that this Dr. Connors guy was actually the Lizard– the guy he was tracking down before he was rescued. Apparently, the Lizard went missing a while back and is now presumed dead.

By the time Peter's eyes ached so much he was forced to close them, he knew all available info about his dad's job at Oscorp, Oscorp itself, Norman Osborn, Harry Osborn, the ØØ project, and Dr. Connors AKA the Lizard.

The test the next day was easy. When he was done, the looks of shock on the staff's faces were priceless. Apparently the test was supposed to take two hours but he finished it in thirty minutes. Peter saw a bit of the school–where he had to go for the test–and it looked quite nice. Nothing fancy or extreme (though he wouldn't know).

Mid-August he was working in the higher intern labs at the tower. Both Bruce and Tony were in their own labs so he was here by himself. Over the past few weeks, he's become acquainted with these people– mainly Skip, a kind, trustworthy man who loved geeking out with him over Star Wars.

"Hey Einstein, could you help me with this?" Skip asked, grinning up at him.

"Sure!" Peter responded with an equally large smile. At first, he didn't like the nickname, saying it was too bold and that he could never live up to it, but now his lips would widen into a grin whenever he hears it.

Spider sat beside the white-haired young intern and they began to work together to solve an equation. It took them awhile–half the time was spent goofing off–and by the time they were done, they were the last two people in the labs. The lights had dimmed slightly and the glass windows of the room had gone dark in automatic preparation to lock up for the night. It was twilight, so everything was stained in melting indigos and lavenders, the lab hardly navigate-able.

"I'm about ready to call it a night." Peter laughed exhaustedly.

"Couldn't agree more." Skip replied, grinning wolfishly to himself. It was just him and Peter. Perfect.

*****(rape stuff starts)**

They both stood up and began to gather their things. As Peter headed for the door, Skip stopped what he was doing and lunged for Spider's arm, pushing him into a table. The teen's Spider Sense failed to warm him since it deemed Skip a non-threat. However now, it was buzzing harshly in the back of his neck. The older man crowded in on him, placing his arms on either side of the teen so he couldn't escape.

"S-Skip? I-I don't really like this. What are you doing?"

"Oh come on Einstein, why don't we play a little game?" He cooed softly, maniacal cobalt-blue eyes meeting terrified honey-brown ones. The man forced his knee through Peter's legs. His Spidey Sense pounded throughout his head and neck.

"I don't want to play your games."

Skips hands drifted down to his fly, slowly unzipping it. His mouth met Peter's neck, biting it without hesitation. Now, the teen's Sense blared at him to do something, anything, to get out of here.

"S-stop it, Skip. Let me go." He exclaimed, but didn't move. No, _couldn't_ move. _Why can't I move?_ Though he already knew the answer. Peter knew what was going to happen to him, but this time he wasn't blindfolded.

Skip furthered his actions until they were at _the part_. Spider couldn't scream for help thanks to the fingers in his mouth. He was dead still. Limp. Like a tool. Objectified and used. Memories of previous times like this danced across the floor as Skip made his body rock back and forth in pain. A boulder in his gut weighed him down on the spot and his limbs felt like cement blocks of their own. _This is normal_. His mind screamed. _This is what you deserve for trusting someone_.

*****(ends)**

Suddenly, an alarm sounded and flashing red lights illuminated the dim room, causing the white-haired male to freeze, eyes wide.

" _Step away from Mr. Parker_." FRIDAY commanded with so much authority that she might as well be Steve.

"Shit." Skip cursed, removing himself and buckling his pants back on, muttering something about how 'I didn't get to fucking release'. He grabbed his bag and bolted out of there, the thunderous Click Clacks of his footfalls resonating in Peter's mind.

Spider slumped to the floor, ashamed, defeated, and crying.

 _Why didn't I fucking do something? I could've stopped him and left_.

When he heard new footsteps, ones that belonged to Stark, his eyelids flew open and he hastily pulled his pants back up, ran his fingers through his curls, and went over to gather his things, hoping he would look casual.

"Peter? What's wrong? What happened? FRI told me you were being violated." Tony bursted through the door, trying to look calm, but his voice was clearly frantic and worried.

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark." Peter sniffled, refusing to turn and look his mentor in the eye.

"You are absolutely not fine." He retorted, then softened his voice to a caring whisper, "Can you tell me what happened?"

Instead of spilling the beans, Spider waited for just a moment, calculating by senses alone, then turned and booked it out the lab. He, as gently as possible, shoved Tony out of the way and clambered up the stairs faster than he's ever moved before. As he was running through the common room, he physically bumped into Bucky, staggering back with a pained grunt.

"Sorry, I wasn't– Kid, what's wrong? You okay?" Soldier asked softly, brows knit in worry and confusion. He placed a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder and the teen reeled back, hissing at the contact.

"Just– leave me alone." He growled out, immediately regretting but ignoring the feeling and going around Bucky so he could run to his room. When he got there, he told FRIDAY to stop anyone from coming in. And that meant _anyone_.

Peter stuffed a pillow to his face

and screamed,

and screamed,

and screamed.

That was the third time the reality of Peter's world crashed down upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: So I've gotten a few questions/mentions about this on my other platform, Wattpad, and I thought I would clear it up that way none of you will be disappointed later on:
> 
> THIS IS NOT A WINTERSPIDER-BASED FIC.
> 
> Yeah BuckyxPeter isn't the main event in this book. This book is about Peter's life post-HYDRA as he navigates through high school, friends & family, Spider-Man, and villains (basically me re-creating a twisted version of canon with some made-up stuff). I had this entire book planned out from day one, I'm not changing it now. WinterSpider is just one of the many things that happens in the book. And it'll probably first happen in the sequel with the way things are going. Oh and, I'll also add that this book will be a rollercoaster of emotions and putting Peter through pain so if you don't want that, don't read.
> 
> So, with that, I hope I didn't disappoint y'all. If I did and you don't want to read this anymore, you know where the door is.
> 
> Non-important stuff: Anyway, take care of yourselves, I'm sending y'all hugs and health,
> 
> -Swindle


	30. Ch 29-First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: okay so Peter doesn't have that large slash scar on his chest cuz he hasn't fought The Lizard for plot reasons. Also, side note, Peter and Bucky used to go on some missions together just cuz.
> 
> Yay that's done. I'm yeeting y'all my hugs,
> 
> -Swindle

**WARNINGS: Slight mentions of rape (not much), Slight mentions of self-harm and blood (also not much)**

**3rd POV**

Tony knew what happened. He had pulled up the security footage.

He saw everything.

And he was mad. Mad at Skip. Mad at FRIDAY. Mad at himself.

If he had just agreed when Peter asked him to come down to the lab instead of insisting he needed to work on his Mark79, then this never would've happened.

_"They happen because of you."_

In a blind rage, he threw a hammer at his suit, furious that it–and himself–was the reason this had even happened. Sadly, the tool only chipped the sleek metal surface thanks to it being half vibranium.

The others knew he knew what happened, but he refused to speak, his tongue tied with the poison of guilt and self-loathing. Tony would never tell them, especially not Bucky (who had his disturbing suspicions), that was Peter's choice.

So he holed himself up in his lab the following day, refusing to speak to anyone, even his husband.

Peter was doing the same thing.

The only difference was that he had Tanya beside him, along with probably the worst Sensory Overload he had ever experienced in his entire life.

He sat criss-cross on his bed, naked except for boxers, the curtains shut and no noise in the room. It was quiet, dark, and for the most part, non-physical. Still, every intake of breath, every rub against the two fabrics beneath him, every meow from Tanya, sent battalions of pain crashing through his senses.

So he sat, still as stone, in the middle of the bed. All his tears and screams had been spent the night before, leaving his throat parched and eyes dry. His usual sparkly, enthusiastic eyes had gone dull once more, reduced to mere glassy orbs above dark eye-shadows. Curly hair was slightly greasy and messier than normal, obscuring part of his vision.

He was disheveled and broken.

Peter had vomited twice that day. And also cut his wrists a few times, hardly managing to patch himself back up. Both things were from sheer self-hate and disgust. He didn't throw up any food. Just whatever his stomach could manage to discard the wrong way. His stomach rumbled greedily, but at the same time, it ached and twisted with both pain and illness.

_'You were a friend of mine_

_Before you attacked me._

_I told you I wasn't ready,_

_So you took over._

_I was alone at home._

_It was late. Dark._

_You called me,_

_Asked me to come over._

_We were partners [for a school project]._

_You wanted to work on it. How did I not see?_

_I didn't hear the anger in your voice._

_I went into my room, the look in your eyes._

_It was hungry, murderous.'_

_-Someday I'll Forget by Alaska (shortened ver.)_

It was nearly eight o'clock at night and Spider hadn't consumed a single thing all day. He managed to get up and feed Tanya, but that was it. This wasn't healthy, especially for his metabolism.

Ten o'clock rolled around, slow as a slug, and Peter gave up with an emotionless sigh.

FRIDAY graciously opened the door for him and he tip-toed into the hallway, making sure as little of his skin was touching things as possible. He cringed when his bandages rustled against his sensitive flesh. And when the loud gunshots of an action film could be heard in the common room. Gritting his teeth, Peter crept down the stairs with his eyes squinted to avoid the bright, blaring blue light of the TV.

Parker saw some people sitting in the couches, some asleep, some not, and he tried to avoid being seen by them. Very carefully, the teen turned around the glass corner of the staircase and towards the kitchen, thanking God that their backs were to him now.

Though it was short-lived.

"Peter?" Natasha called, voice soft as silk and smooth as honey.

Bucky, Steve, and Vision's heads lifted up, quickly zeroing in on his hunched, sad, half-naked figure. Their eyes flitted over his many scars, but dutifully didn't linger.

"Peter, are you okay?" Steve asked, his tone a bit louder, burning Peters ears.

"Kid, what happened?" Bucky's rough voice felt like daggers to his skull, "And why are you only in boxers?"

Spider whined, high and pained, resembling a wounded animal, "'M just getting food." He continued his quest to find nutrients, carefully walking around the counter.

"Peter, did you hurt yourself again?" Natasha asked in a delicate whisper, getting up and approaching him.

His only answer was a whimper as he used his webs to open the cupboard, finding half a loaf of bread– not what he wants to eat, but really being his only option considering how sensitive his tastebuds were.

"We'd–" Steve gulped and eyed Bucky, "We'd like to know what happened yesterday."

"Stop interrogating me." Peter snapped, exhausted and impatient.

"Hey, it's okay, we're just concerned about you, that's all." Natasha' brows furrowed and she stepped foreword, gently placing her hand on his arm.

Peter reeled back at the searing pain and hissed at her, fangs bared and stance defensive, " _Don't touch me_."

"I-I'm sorry." Romanoff stuttered the words, taken aback. She was surprised. What was wrong? What had happened? What did she do? She analyzed him. Spider seemed sensitive at the moment. He easily flinched at noises or when they got too close. Well, he flinched at _everything_. His fingers were curled around the bread bag and he stood on the balls of his feet, seeming to not want to touch anything. Wait, he was eating bread. Peter didn't like bread. If he was really going for a snack, he'd either eat a few apples or make himself an omelette.

Something was very, very wrong.

"I'm sorry." The ex-assassin repeated, so quiet that the other three barely heard her, "I didn't mean to hurt you, but I need you to know that we're there for you. I know it's hard, I can't imagine," she really couldn't, "but I want you to tell us about yesterday. We don't know what happened, but we want to help in any way we can. So please, ребенок паук, talk to us."

Peter relaxed and looked down, ashamed, "I don't know how."

Natasha reached out tentatively, going as slow as possible while still rushing. The teen flinched back again, taking a step back into the counter. He hissed and regretfully took another step forward.

"Peter, were you abused?"

He let out a dry, bitter chuckle and wiped a few tears from his eyes, not removing his gaze from the floor, "I don't think that's the correct word for that."

The redhead bit back her look of pain. She spared a glance at Bucky, who was also hiding his devastation, and to Steve and Vision, who's features were stony and emotionless.

"What would you say is the correct word fo it?"

 _Rape_.

It was right there, the word hanging on the tip of Peter's tongue, so sharp and revealing. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. If he did, he'd be admitting to what he's been through. Admitting that there was something wrong with him. Admitting that he wasn't as normal as he hoped to be. Admitting that his life would never really change.

So he didn't say anything out loud.

With great agony, Peter reached over by the fruit bowl and grabbed a pencil and notepad. He brought the dull, scratching nub across the paper in a flurry of sick words. The teen cringed as he ripped off the paper and handed it to Natasha, curling in on himself to avoid their expressions.

Romanoff said nothing, staring at the three messy words.

The three men peered over her shoulder, Bucky tensing more than the other two.

How did they bring this up? They've never really... talked about this issue before. They didn't know what to do or say to be of comfort.

But they were the responsible adults in this situation and they were 100% ready to kick someone's ass.

"Who did it?" The redhead assassin asked as calmly as she could muster, though there was a snarl to her words.

Peter shook his head and made a noise, nails scratching his bandages nervously, turning them more red.

"Peter," Bucky whispered softly and crouched down, now eye-level with the teen, "we need you to tell us who did it. Please."

"That way, we can send them to jail." Vision pointed out helpfully.

"I don't want to send them to jail!" Spider spluttered, head whipping up to meet the android's artificial gaze.

"Peter, they _raped_ you. That's a serious crime. We need to go to court for this." Steve said.

"What? No, we don't. He was my friend." Peter protested. When he realized what he said, he sniffled and repeated quieter, voice broken over the lie of the statement, "He was my friend.

"He was..."

Peter broke down for the first time that day, sobs hitching in his throat as he tried to make them stop. There was an odd feeling of being cheated and lied to stuck in his throat. He coughed and fell to his knees, arms wrapped around his body as he shuddered both from cold and pain.

They comforted the distressed boy at a distance to the best of their abilities, though all they could offer was slight vocal reassurance and empty whispers.

When he calmed down and apologized to an extreme amount, they managed to convince him about going to court. The other Avengers were called and they talked this out– Peter feeling uncomfortable and stared during the whole conversation.

He went to bed feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest, yet also as though he was doing something very, very wrong. Guilt settled in his stomach that night as gradually drifted off into a trauma-filled sleep.

Though that wasn't the only thing that happened that day.

The videos of him as Spider-Man went viral, causing all the Avengers to learn about his alter-ego. He was accepted into Midtown with an additional award of having the 'best audition in all the years since the school was founded'. And they were all invited to attend some charity ball on Labour Day.

The nest day, Peter was as right as rain. It was as though he wasn't affected by what happened. He spent time in the lab with Mr. Stark, played Mario Kart with Clint and Bucky, did some training, dusted his bookshelf, and played with Tanya.

They didn't get it.

He completely rebounded.

Neither Natasha nor Bucky found any trace of faux-joy in his eyes. They didn't confront him though, that'd be weird.

So they let Peter do his own thing and kept a sneaky eye on him.

His mood never dampened.

One week later and it's time for Peter to go to school.

He rushed excitedly down the stairs wearing a simple light blue cotton sweater with a plaid brown and white shirt underneath, and nice blue jeans. A simple navy backpack filled with school supplies hung snug on his back.

"You ready for your first day?" Bucky asked from where he was finishing making an omelette for Peter.

"Yup!" He said cheerfully.

"What's with the gelled-down hair, kiddo?" Tony pointed out as he made another pot of coffee. Peter's hair was gelled flatter than usual, not to mention straighter– not the normal curls.

He shrugged and began to scarf down his food, "I just... want a new start, y'know?"

The few people in the room nodded in understanding. Steve handed him his lunch and the teen grinned.

When he was done, Spider ran back up to his room, brushed his teeth, grabbed a pair of sneakers, and clambered back down. He checked the time. 7:30am.

"I have to go!" He yelped, almost tripping over Tanya's water dish. Before turning the corner to the elevator, he skidded back, "Almost forgot something."

"What?" Steve asked.

Peter didn't say anything as he carefully hugged the five of them, wishing them a final farewell before disappearing around the corner. He tugged on his sneakers as he descended, then double-checked his backpack to make sure everything was there. The doors slid open and he speed-walked out, waving goodby to the receptionist–who bid him a good day–and went out front to where Happy was waiting in a black Audi.

He hopped in the back and chirped overly-cheerful good morning to the chauffeur, who grunted and pulled into the traffic. Peter began to blabber eagerly, earning a very rare noise of acknowledgement–usually a groan, huff, or grunt–every once in a while. The divider went up half-way through the trip and Spider huffed and frowned.

 _'Dancing queen, young and sweet, only sev–'_ Peter accepted the call with a beam, "Hey, Shuri!"

"Hey, broken white boy. It's almost eight am where you are, right?"

The curly-haired teen replied with a yes.

"Good, have a good first day!" She cheered excitedly.

Peter laughed and thanked her. He hung up when they parked a block away from the entrance. Saying a quick goodbye to Happy, he exited the car, taking in a deep breath and forcing down his nerves. His eyes darted around the front of the building where teenagers were talking, laughing, and walking into the school from either their rides or the sidewalk. Peter took in the huge, old building, the enormous fields, and the beautiful property that almost didn't feel like New York anymore.

With a deep breath, Spider gripped the straps of his backpack and climbed the stairs of the school, entering without hesitation.

 _It smelled bad_. Was the first thing he thought. That and _it's busy_. The smell of dirty socks, sweat, and too much Axe body spray caused his nose to wrinkle with disgust. TV's hung on the walls, two teens talking about 'back to school' stuff with very awkward tension between them. Coughing a little, Peter made his way to the Office, narrowly avoiding some dude riding past on a skateboard.

He entered the calm room and sighed with relief. No noise. The smell was of hand sanitizer– good on the nose, "Hi, I'm Peter Parker. I'm here to pick up my schedule and locker combination."

The desk lady looked up and quietly slid two pieces of paper to his hands, "Don't lose these."

Gulping and nodding, the teen thanked her and exited, almost stumbling back from the smell again. He made his way down the hall, down another hall, and down a third hall, until he found the right locker. A few cheerleaders stood a couple lockers over, gossiping, and someone wearing very punk clothes was getting stuff out of the locker next to him.

He twisted the lock, but nothing happened. He tried again, it didn't work. He tried a third time–third time's the charm–but it was still locked. Peter grew a little frantic. The bell rang in four minutes and he needed to get to his class still.

"You look lost, dude." A male voice said from behind him.

Spider turned to see a heavy-set, shorter teen standing behind him. His skin was a soft light brown tone and his dark brown hair flopped a little over his eyes. The stranger wore a _Star Wars_ tee underneath another blue plaid shirt, and blue jeans.

"Uhm, yeah. Could you– uh, could you help me please? I can't get this to open." Peter squawked, face flushing a little.

"Never used a lock before?" The dude questioned, walking forward so he could turn the dial when needed to.

"No. Not– uh– not exactly."

"Numbers?"

Peter stood there, looking at him in confusion, before realizing that he needed to recite the numbers on his page to the other guy, "Seven, forty-three, and eighteen."

The other teen got his locker open easily and Spider almost gaped, "Thanks."

"Yeah no problem." He went to his own locker next to Peter's, "I'm Ned by the way."

"Peter Parker."

"What's your first class?"

"AP Biology with Mr. Harrington."

"No way, man, same! Wanna walk there together?"

"Sure." Peter didn't know why this Ned dude was so nice to him but he didn't complain.

They walked to their first class of the day, discussing their mutual disinterest for _The Phantom Menace_.

The bell rang loudly in Peter's ears as he sat down. He flinched away from the noise, causing some students to look at him and Ned to ask what was wrong. He brushed it off with a forced laugh, saying he was just surprised.

"Alright class, it may be the start of the year, but we have a new student joining us. Peter, introduce yourself with a fun fact about you or something" Mr. Harrington said, slumping down into his desk chair.

 _This wasn't on the list of things I have to prepare for._ He thought bitterly as he stood up, "Uh, Peter Parker and I have never been to high school before. I was... homeschooled until now."

A few whispers passed over the room and a girl's hand shot up.

"Yes, Betty?" Harrington sighed.

"Peter Parker. Like, Richard Parker's lost son?"

"That... would be me, yes." He cringed. So they already know about him. Yay.

"Alright sit down." The teacher said and he started the lesson.

Peter found the class surprisingly easy. He'd already learned about all this stuff a few years ago so it wasn't a challenge. He was called on a few times, possibly for looking disinterested, and answered all the questions correctly.

"...So the project on DNA comparison is due on Friday. This is an at-home project. If you don't–and you probably don't–have the right materials for this, I'm here during lunch and two hours after school if you need to use the labs. Remember, it's a partner project, no solo people or higher than groups of three. Class dismissed."

The bell rang and the students shuffled out of the room. Ned–who claimed him as his partner–walked him to his Government class and then left for his own class.

Peter was introduced as the new student again, along with another guy, Harry. They sat together at the back of the class.

"You're Harry Osborn, aren't you?" Spider whispered during the lecture that he found not too challenging– though there were some things he didn't know.

"Yeah, Peter Parker, right?" The dark brown-haired celebrity grinned, something incomprehensible glinting in his arctic blue eyes. Peter nodded and he continued, "Sorry about your parents, man."

"Thanks, yours too."

"Boys, I hope what you're talking about is the lesson, otherwise I shouldn't be seeing your mouths move." Old Ms. Lumley commented with her hands on her hips.

"Sorry!" They yelped simultaneously, chuckling under their breaths.

After Peter's third class was lunch, which both Ned and Harry invited him to sit with them. They settled on sitting together in one of the half-empty tables. Peter's eyes scanned the room, spotting the cliché groups of students– jocks, nerds, weebs, popular kids, goths, etc...

"Hey, Peter." Ned's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just, first day of high school for me." Harry made a noise of agreement.

"Woah I forgot. You two have never been in a high school before." Peter and Harry shook their heads, "It's pretty boring. Just classes, work, and lunch."

"Doesn't sound too bad." Peter chuckled, taking a bite of one of three ham and cheese sandwiches.

"Speaking of work, we totally need to think about our project."

"You guys have a project already?" Harry asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Yeah, Mr. Harrington usually doesn't care, but he gives us lots of work." Ned turned back to Parker, "I don't have the equipment at my house and other than staying at school, I have no idea where to go for it."

Peter hummed, debating in his mind. As fun as school was so far, he didn't like the idea of being stuck here longer than necessary. Besides, he has Patrol every night. On the other hand, is bringing Ned to the Tower really a good idea? It hasn't been long and he already knows Ned absolutely _loves_ the Avengers– which is kind of weird for him to think about since he lives with them. And anyway, all the media knows is that Mr. Stark's has a personal intern, not who he is. He could risk bringing Ned to his lab in the Tower and saying that he's an intern, but having him swear to secrecy.

Decisions, decisions.

"I have the right stuff at my work place. But let me call my... _boss_ and ask." Peter said as he took out his phone and walked to the hall.

Pressing the 'dial' button under Tony's name, Spider rocked on the balls of his feet nervously.

"Hey, Peter, shouldn't you be in class?" Stark picked up after the second ring.

"It's lunch. I have a question."

"Shoot."

"I'm doing a biology project with my partner. It's about, uh, comparing blood and I was wondering if I was allowed to take him to my lab? I-I know people aren't really supposed to know about me but it's either that or stay after school and–and as much as I love school, I don't want to stay here longer than required." He rambled, stuttering now and then.

"Relax, kiddo. You can bring him whenever, just say it's for work, okay? We can have him sign the legal documents here at the Tower so he won't be able to say anything."

Peter breathed a sign of relief, "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"No problem, kid." He hung up.

Spider walked back to his acquaintances with a smile on his face, "Good news, Ned. You can come to work with me. My boss says I can take the afternoon off tomorrow to do the project."

"Sweet, thanks man."

He nodded and beamed, gobbling up the rest of his food.

The rest of the day went by fine. He had Spanish with Ned after Lunch. Spanish was not a strong suit for him, let's just say. With all the languages already in his head, another was not easy to fit. PE was with Ned, Harry, and people he recognized from his other classes. It was very easy, but he made sure to look like it was hard as to not attract attention and keep his preferred 'loser' profile. Public Speaking sucked, mainly because nobody he knew was in the class. He had his wood-working elective with Ned though.

Peter went home with a smile on his face, rambling to Happy while doing his limited amount of homework.

He got out at the Tower and thanked his chauffeur.

The elevator dinged and Spider stepped into the common room, not realizing how utterly drained he was until seeing the tantalizing couches meters away.

"Peter, you're back. How was your day?" Steve asked, pausing his documentary. Bucky looked up with intrigue.

Dropping his bag on a breakfast bar stool and tripping over his feet as he took off his shoes, Parker flopped onto the couch, resting his head on Barnes' lap, "Really good. 'S tiring though. So many people and smells and feelings. And the bell is so _loud_." He whined at the last part.

Tanya trotted up and leapt onto his stomach, meowing and nudging his hand persistently. He pet her lazily and let his eyes close.

"Glad you enjoyed it. Stark is in his lab if you're wondering." Bucky said, letting his gloved metal hand run through Peter's hair, causing the teen to purr softly.

"M'good here."

The next day was the same, as expected. He learned the name of a girl–Gwen–who he helped pick up her books when she bumped into him.

This time, Ned joined him on his ride home and instead of bugging Happy, Peter could geek out about Star Wars with his partner.

They pulled up to the Tower and Ned's mouth hung in awe, eyes blown wide as saucers, "You– wha– _Stark Industries?_ "

"Yes, I work here. Well, not _work_ , it's an internship." Peter chuckled and dragged his frozen friend into the building, greeting the receptionist as he passed, "Afternoon, Mr. Rodriguez."

Spider got to the private elevator, "FRIDAY, give Ned access to wherever I go. It expires when he leaves. Now take us to my lab."

" _Of course, Mr. Parker._ " The doors opened and they got in, ascending the many floors.

"I– uh– blsdjeh– was that FRIDAY? The AI Tony Stark made?"

"That would be the one." Parker smiled.

The two teens exited at the floor with Peter, Bruce, and Tony's labs. Thankfully, the windows were dimmed so Ned couldn't see into any rooms. Spider's face was scanned and they walked into his lab.

"Dude, this is awesome."

Peter just chuckled and set his bag down, grabbing and chair and pulling it up to [name of machinery that they use for their project], "So, time to prick your finger."

Ned gagged but dutifully pulled up a chair next to him, holding his hand out.

With one swift motion, Parker pricked Leeds' pinkie, squeezing some blood into a vial and setting it off to the side. Now it was his turn.

Peter froze in place.

He couldn't do this.

Not just because of his fear of needles but also because of his radioactive and very not-human blood. Ned could not know about this. That would be the end of Spider-Man.

"Uh, Peter? Wake up. You're zoning out."

"Sorry, just... scared of needles. Uh, wait here." He rushed out of the room to find Clint, who was–according to FRIDAY–in the kitchen, "Clint! I need your blood."

He barely registered that he called him by his first name. His word came out muffled from the food stuffed in his mouth, "Why?"

"Science project. Can't use my own. Steve and Bucky's are not human. Tony has the fluid that calls his suits. You're the only other person here."

The archer shrugged, "Sure, why not. Life is a series of uncomfortable events anyways."

"I– okay, whatever." Peter pricked his finger, collected some blood, and hurried back to the lab, "Sorry, I'm just _really_ scared of needles so I had a co-worker help."

Ned just nodded and squinted his eyes vaguely, "Sure, dude, we all have our fears."

They continued the project without any issues and Ned signed the forms of secrecy (a little disappointed that he couldn't say anything, but understanding why).

Five days later was when they were summoned to court for Peter being the victim of rape.

Apparently, a neighbour of Skip's had also found drugs in his house when lizard-sitting.

Skip was found guilty and was charged with both illegal possession of drugs and rape.

He was sent to jail for sixteen years.

One day later was the Labour Day Charity Ball that they were invited to attend.

Peter was given a nice suit that was just barely too small for Pietro. It was navy blue with a sleek red tie and white pocket square.

"Soldier!" He called as he descended the modern stairs. His eyes landed on Bucky, who was dressed up as fancy as the rest of them– a simple black suit and hair slicked back.

The man looked up, steel-blue eyes landing on his friend.

"Can you tie my tie? I don't know how." Peter pouted a little, his rosy lips turned down in a frown.

"Sure, c'mere." Bucky beckoned the teen over and took his hands in his own, "I'll guide you through it."

With slow, instructive motions, they managed to tie it together, Peter beaming when it was done, "Thank you."

They arrived at the ball and it was already bustling with people.

Everybody was dressed up so finely, not a single soul looking remotely casual.

People danced around the centre of the room, live music being played for their entertainment. Refreshments and snacks lined the walls on long tables. Servers walked around, offering drinks to anyone and everyone.

Peter wanted nothing more than to waltz around the room with Bucky, but he knew that it would be weird– mostly on Bucky's part, and that another part of him didn't like the idea of so many people seeing them dance.

Instead, he and Wanda took to the floor, laughing and talking as they stepped gracefully to each song.

Peter silently wondered where she learned how to dance.


	31. Ch 30-Oscorp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 hours of movie-watching, 6 hours of documenting, 3 hours of plot-writing, and 2 hours of editing later, I present to you this chapter. The reason why I did so much is because I basically used both Andrew Garfield Spider-Man movies along with the first Tom Holland one to plot out this book. I have 18 pages of research and 8 of plot. I had to do the whole plot so this chapter actually worked. I'm dead. (It's kinda hard merging three movies together, making it as canonically accurate as possible, and keeping the AU style).
> 
> But I'm happy and proud of myself for doing it!
> 
> Also, I just noticed that I accidentally made Peter 16 instead of 15 but I really don't want to look through 29 chapters that could take hours for me to fix it (I'm dedicated but not that much). Sorry. So instead, we're going to pretend HYDRA f*cked up his age with their experiments. Sorry again, please forgive me and understand <3
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy. Sending hugs and good health as usual :)
> 
> -Swindle

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY PETER (so glad I got this out today)**

**So I kinda mixed together Tony Revolori and Chris Zylka's 'Flash Thompson'. He's got Tony's looks but more of Chris' aggressive/physical behaviour.**

**WARNING: Extremely brief mentions of abuse and drinking. Some (physical) bullying.**

**Feel free to point out mistakes :)**

**3rd POV**

Flash Thompson was pissed.

Okay maybe not pissed but he was hella frustrated.

This new kid–Peter Parker–was already becoming the teacher's favourite and getting better grades than him after only two weeks of being here. The only person who was above him was Gwen Stacy, but he had no problem with her since she tutored him the one subject he sucked at– Calculus.

His brother, Jesse, had come home from school one day in June with the most astounded look on his face. Jesse had blabbered on about some teen with curly hair, gnarly scars, killer abs, and the wildest look in his eyes. He was told about how the guy shredded his knuckles in trying–and succeeding–in breaking a punching bag. At the time, Flash thought the dude must be pretty cool.

But on the first day of school, he was proven wrong. Eugene saw the teenager that was described– bright honey eyes, thin scar below eye, awfully marred knuckles, and curly caramel hair (except that it appeared to be gelled down). The difference was that Peter was nothing like the charismatic, strong, chill dude that Jesse talked about so much. This Peter was quiet, easily startled, nervous, and very... _not intimidating_.

The disappointment was nagging him for a while.

Though it swiftly turned into anger the higher Parker's grades got and the more the teachers seemed to dislike _him_. Flash. _Not_ Perfect Peter™.

It wasn't just school that got worse, it was his home life too. Jesse left for law school– just like his dad wanted. His mom picked up more shifts at the hospital just to get away from her family– mostly her husband. And last but not least, his dad was still as abusive and drunk as always– at least when he's not at work. Most days it was just him alone in the house, waiting until bruises heal and time to pass.

Things were shitty, let's just say.

So he took it out on Peter, the defenceless new kid that never fought back. Eugene stuck to teasing and mean jabs, never earning much of a response. He wanted a reaction out of the other teen. Whether it was a snappy line or even a punch to the gut, he needed something to happen but he just didn't know why. Flash would tease for as long as he needed to get that reaction.

On the other hand, this mysterious new hero that goes by the name Spider-Man gives him hope. He looks out for the little guy, keeps the neighbourhood safe, and seems super dope. The Avengers don't save civilians from muggings or prevent bank robberies. They clean up the big messes, fight the big fights, save the world– and yeah, that's important, but they don't do what Spider-Man does.

Spider-Man has turned into his distraction and Peter, his outlet.

"And we are done." Tony announced proudly, setting his safety goggles and tools down, "Why don't you take it for a test run? Tell me how it feels and we'll make changes if we need to."

Peter nodded and gathered the newer, sleeker Spider Suit in his arms, smiling widely, "Thanks Mr. Stark. Will do!" He bounded out of the lab and to his room.

Parker stripped and tugged on his new suit, pressing the pad in the middle so it shrunk to fit his lithe frame. The teen put on his backpack and clipped the front straps together that way it wouldn't fall off. FRIDAY opened his bedroom window without being told to, sensing he'd go out since he was dressed for the occasion. Peter took a deep breath, hopped up and down a few times, shook his arms nervously, tilted his head from side to side, and finally shot out the window. He let himself fall

down

down

down

to the ground below, cheering and watching his reflection in the windows of the tower. Flipping his body, Spider attached a web to a nearby building and swung upwards just before hitting a lamppost.

He spent the first half hour getting a feel for his new suit and stopping a grand theft bicycle.

Dropping down to an alley, Peter took off his suit, put on his clothes, and walked half a block to Delmar's Bodega for a snack. He greeted one of the regulars on his way in.

"'Sup, Mr. Delmar." The brunette said upon immediate entry, plucking a bag of gummies off the rack and placing them onto the counter.

"Hey, Mr. Parker. Number five, right?" He asked, remembering the kid's usual order.

Peter turned, pointing to one of the workers, "Yeah and, uh, with pickles and can you smush it down real flat?" He clapped his hands in a 'smushing' motion, "Thanks."

"You got it, boss." A dark-skinned man noted as he went to fulfill the order.

"How's Dorothy?" The hunched-over owner asked.

"She's alright." Spider responded with a slight shrug. He hasn't seen Dorothy in nearly two weeks so his answer wasn't completely up to date.

"She's a lovely English lady." Mr. Delmar told one of the employees in Spanish, a small smirk on his lips and a playful twinkle in his eyes.

"How's your daughter?" Peter shot back, also in Spanish, though he wasn't exactly sure what he said was correct.

The old man was not impressed, leading him to believe his said the right thing, "Ten dollars."

"It's five dollars." Parker motioned to the sign, smiling triumphantly.

"For that comment, ten dollars." Delmar did a small nod, a pointed look on his face.

"Hey, c'mon. I'm joking, I'm joking." He fished for money in his wallet, "Here's ten dollars."

Mr. Delmar took and Peter moved to the cat lounging on the counter, rubbing his neck affectionately, "'Sup Murph."

They kept talking and Peter eventually left with his sandwich. He went back to the alley, got his suit back on, and swung off.

He hitched a ride on a train that went towards the centre of Queens, playing Minecraft on his phone the whole time while ignoring the beautiful but incredibly bright sun.

Sitting on a building, he heard a gunshot in the distance, rapidly standing up to follow the noise.

"Hey, you're that Spider-Guy on YouTube, right?" A loud voice stopped him.

"Call me Spider-Man."

"Okay, Spider-Man, do a flip."

He didn't have time for this, but he did it anyway, earning a few cheers as he left the scene.

Peter went on to help an old lady–she bought him a churro–and stop a false car theft before calling it a night and going home for dinner.

"How does it work?" Tony asked when he walked into the lab, two hours after he first left.

"Amazingly." The honey-eyed teen grinned, eyes blown wide and hair mussed.

"Hey Peter, Harry, wanna come over after school? My mom got me a Harry Potter Lego set and I was thinking us three could build it together?" Ned asked his two friends one mid-September afternoon.

"Yeah sure, my guardian should be okay with it. I don't have my internship today either." 'Internship' translated to 'patrol' for Peter.

"I'm cool with it. No meetings tonight." Harry chuckled bitingly, examining the Rubix cube in his hand.

"Sweet, my mom's been dying to meet you guys."

Peter found himself riding the subway and walking through a decently quiet subdivision later that day, chattering aimlessly with his friends.

Ned opened the door to an old yellow house, "Mom, I'm home. And I brought some friends."

"Oh welcome home sweetie." A short, heavier-set lady poked her head around the corner, "You boys must be Peter and Harry. Nice to meet you both. I'm sorry, I'm cooking dinner so I can't come over."

"That's alright ma'am, it's nice to meet you too." Peter replied as he removed his sneakers.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Harry did a little bow, and took off his own polished black shoes.

"None of this ma'am stuff, call me Reina."

"Alright, Mrs. Reina." Osborn grinned as Ned dragged them both to his room.

They were taken up a rickety staircase lined with family photos over the years. The trio walked through the pale yellow hall. Peter's eyes flickered to each picture, each different door, and each little object lying around that made it _home_. Halfway down the hall, they were taken into a room that had letters nailed on saying 'Edward' and a _clearly_ very old paper with bold letters reading 'Keep out!!!!'. Peter sniggered, imagining tiny Ned furiously writing that in hopes his mom and sister would listen.

The room was small and compact– like the rest of the house. Ancient off-white wallpaper with brown stripes decorated the walls while a single bed was pushed up against the right wall, part of it underneath the window. A brown oak desk and bookshelf sat against the other wall with a TV above it. Next to the bed was a dresser, bedside table, and a terrarium (with a frog inside). Awards and posters hung on the walls along with pictures of younger Ned doing some sort of extracurricular activity. Clothes were lying haphazardly around the room, bright sun illuminating them in its warm glow. A few books and a computer sat out on the desk. Even a dresser drawer was cracked open (though it appeared to be like that permanently).

 _Homey_. Peter mused silently.

They got to work on the Lego set, finishing around supper– it was easy with the three of them working together. Mrs. Leeds had him stay and eat dinner, but he went back home right after, claiming he shouldn't be out longer. Though it was actually because being in new places still kinda scared him.

When he got home from patrol at midnight, he found himself thinking about Ned's house. The pictures on the walls, the clear family love, the haphazard domesticity of the place, the way the family interacts with each other. It was interesting how regular homes and home life worked. Peter mused about it all night, some thoughts turning more bitter and melancholy than others, but thankfully never morphing into tears.

An idea popped into his head, though he had no clue how or when he could act upon it.

The next day, Thursday, Peter was looking at all the club sign-up sheets on the main board. He had already joined Decathlon and Band, but now wanted to join Photography. One problem though– he didn't have a camera and he refused to ask anyone for one.

Parker ignored his Spidey Sense and let the sharp _thwack_ of Flash's basketball hit him on the side of his head, breaking him from his internal debate. Eugene laughed through his fake apology and Peter nodded sarcastically, "Morning, Flash."

Later that afternoon, instead of Happy's black Audi waiting a little ways away from the school, it was Dorothy's red Hyundai.

"I didn't know you were picking me up." Peter greeted as he hopped into the passenger seat.

"Well, we haven't seen each other in a while and I figured a little lunch would be fun."

The superhuman agreed and they drove off to Delmar's.

After a few minutes of catching up, Dorothy decided to bring something up, "I heard through the grapevine that you don't have a camera for Photography."

 _Stark_ , Peter thought. He vaguely remembered mentioning wanting to sign-up for the club, but not that he didn't have a camera. Of course, the man knows everything so it's no surprise he knew, "You don't have to get me anything."

"Too late." She grinned slyly and pulled out a camera with a red ribbon on it from her purse, "Ta-da!"

Peter sighed and huffed a laugh, picking up the simple machine, "Thanks, Ms. Dorothy. You're too kind."

_You deserve it._

The following week, in late September, he walked to the outside seating part of the cafeteria and saw a crowd gathered by one of the tables. They were chanting what sounded like 'eat it'. Curious, Spider walked over. Pushing through the growing swath of people, he made his way to the middle.

In the centre was Flash holding a kid upside-down by his legs and shoving the guy's face into his food, commanding, "Eat your vegetables, Gordon, come on. C'mon."

When he saw Peter emerge from the crowd, he grinned devilishly, "Hey, Parker, come on get a picture of this."

Peter refused, seeing Gordon's sick, out of it face, and pointing to the ground, "I'm not gonna take a picture, put him down."

The two juniors kept arguing, the brunette reassuring the victim to not eat the vegetables.

As a last resort, Spider shook his head and spoke loudly, "Put him down, _Eugene_."

The crowd went silent and Flash looked ready to hurt him. He tossed Gordon aside like trash and when Peter went to see the boy, he right-hooked him with enough force to send him crashing down on the pavement. Thompson kept antagonizing him and throwing him down whenever he tried to get up. Parker let him think he was winning– think he was strong and powerful, for the sake of his image. He rolled around in both fake and real pain, making it seem like the rich kid had done some real damage.

Flash went to challenge the crowd, "Who wants one more, huh?"

"Flash!" Gwen strode through, stopping the teenager dead in his tracks, "We still on for after school today? My house, three-thirty? I hope you've been studying your Calculus. Last time, I was" she shuddered and cringed for effect, "very disappointed."

The bell rang and each student went their own way, Gwen sparing a worried glance at the struggling superhuman.

Peter checked his camera– it had fallen to the ground. _Still intact and working_.

He sat in his next class, opting for burying his head in his arms thanks to the pounding in his skull and the bright lights of the room.

"I thought that was great, what you did."

Spider looked up to see Gwen turned around and talking to him.

"It was stupid, but it was great." She complimented, fiddling with the pen in her hand.

Peter's lips twitched into a small smile and he gave her a silent nod, _she's kind_.

"You should probably go to the nurse too, in case you've got a concussion."

He didn't reply, mostly out of surprise that the most popular and smartest person in the school was talking to him. They haven't even made eye contact before.

"What's your name?"

_Ah, no surprise there. Then again, most people know me 'cause I'm new. I'm surprised it hasn't spread to her level popularity._

"You don't know my name?" Peter asked.

"No, I know your name. I was wondering if _you_ know your name." She smiled playfully.

"Peter." The boy replied slowly, almost forgetting to introduce himself as 'Peter' and not his HYDRA-given name. The look on her face urged him to continue. "Parker. Peter Parker."

Gwen nodded and laughed, "Okay, good."

They both turned their attention back to the lesson. It was short-lived when the blond re-recommended he go to the nurse and the brunette inquired her name for affirmation.

Peter couldn't help the small smile on his face when he went home, joyous in the knowledge that a stranger–one as popular as Gwen Stacy–actually cared about his health.

Early October, Peter sat in his room, looking over the ØØ project for the nth time. The news played on his TV in the background, but nothing interesting was on. Just boring political stuff.

The teenager stared blankly at the Decay Rate Algorithm. This is what created him– what caused him to be the way he is. Just a long line of numbers and equations circles with a fat red marker.

The fact that it was circled was odd to him. Sure, this is very important, but why point it out? Without any other part, he wouldn't be possible, so why? Why was it urgent?

In the background, the news changed over to a different topic. Oscorp and the Lizard. Peter looked over, dropping the files to his chest and turning his full–but still relatively uninterested–attention to the screen.

" _There have been no new sightings of the Lizard for a near five months now. Has he finally been cured?_ " An Asian newscaster asked, one eyebrow lifted in curiosity.

" _Well, Greg, Dr. Connors still works at Oscorp, though no new information about him has been disclosed since his very brief debut as his villainous reptilian alter-ego, the Lizard. All we know for certain is that he has not lost his job as the head scientist, and that he continues to work in Cross-Species Genetics._ " Another newscaster informed.

Something clicked in Peter's mind and he began to piece together an obvious picture, _Cross-Species Genetics. Alter-ego. Lizard. Dr. Connors. Arm. Regeneration. Decay Rate Algorithm. Serum. He must've tried to get fix his arm using lizard DNA since they regrow limbs! But he ended up turning himself into anthropomorphic evil lizard because the Decay Rate Algorithm wasn't quite right._

Peter sat up quickly and did a quick Google search. There was an intern tour being held later today, but of course, no more slots left. Not caring, he made up his mind to go anyways, convinced he wouldn't get caught. Jogging down the hall as Spider-Man, he told whoever was in the common room that he was going out for a patrol. The superhuman launched himself out the window and towards the highway, hitching a ride to New York City by hopping from vehicle to vehicle.

He strode into Oscorp and up to the front desk where the lady told him he'd find his intern badge to the left. Spider grabbed the one named 'Rodrigo' and joined the tour as they waited for their guide.

 _Shit_.

It was Gwen.

Instead of leaving, the doe-eyed boy decided to be stubborn and stick to the back of the crowd in hopes she wouldn't see him.

Gwen introduced herself, her status, and the rules, then began the tour. They ascended the large tower, stopping every once in awhile to see a lab, until they reached one of the top floors.

"Come around this way." She motioned to the group.

Dr. Connors strolled over and some interns visibly tensed, "Welcome. My name is Dr. Curtis Connors." He went on to point out his arm and what he does at Oscorp, earning some scattered laughs, "I can assure you, you are all safe here. We are working on a formula to rid me of my failed creation, the Lizard. Until then, I have medication that does just fine to suppress him."

After his quick reassurance, Connors spoke more about creating a world without weakness, "Anyone care to venture a guess as to how?"

One hand raised, "Stem cells?"

"Promising. But the solution I'm thinking of is more... Radical."

A few confused and curious murmurs swept over the group but Peter didn't hear any correct answers.

"Cross-Species Genetics." The teen said and the crowd parted to give Dr. a view of him.

Gwen, who also saw him, checked her paper to find him on the list. He wasn't. She was a little angry but semi-impressed he got this far.

"Person gets Parkinson's when the braincells that produce dopamine begin to disappear. But a Zebra Fish has the ability to regenerate cells on command. If you can somehow give this ability to the woman you're talking about... That's that. She's curing herself." He finished with a nervous, breathy chuckle. The look on Dr. Connors' face was very impressed.

"Yeah you just have to look past the gills on her neck." Somebody commented, causing the group to laugh.

Curtis silenced the crowd, "A-and you are?"

Peter laughed anxiously, shifting his weight from foot to foot, but did not reply. He wouldn't admit it but the scientist scared him– he gave him an uneasy, déjà vu feeling that he did not like one bit.

Gwen answered for him, also sporting a nervous chuckle, "He's one of Midtown Science's best and brightest. He's second in his class."

Dr. Connors raised his brows, wanting to say something, but was caught off by his phone ringing. When he checked the ID, the man didn't look too happy, "I'm afraid duty calls. I'll leave you in the more than capable hand of Ms. Stacy. Nice meeting you all." He bowed his head and strode off.

Gwen opened up the 'Tree of Life' and the group was pulled in on fascination.

Peter took the opportunity to leave, but was caught.

"Hi. What are you doing here, _Rodrigo_?"

He looked down and laughed, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment, "I work here. I don't work here. I was gonna say I work here but it seems like you, in fact, do work here so you know that I don't, in fact, work here." Peter rambled, avoiding her amused yet disappointed gaze.

Gwen drilled him on why he was here and the only response he came up with was that he loves science. Which he does, that wasn't a lie.

The blond was less than impressed.

She told him to not get in trouble or leave because she needed to lead the tour, then turned her back on him to talk to the group.

What does Peter do?

He leaves the group.

As he quickened his pace backwards through the lab, he bumped into a dark-skinned and very important-looking man, causing him to drop his papers.

"Sorry!" He yelped in surprise, bending down to retrieve the dropped files. When he got his hands on them, he noticed two Ø's like the ones on his dad's files.

The stern man snatched them out of his hands, shooting him a displeased look before marching off. Peter's feet gave him no choice but to follow.

The man stopped at a daunting room with a complex keypad titled 'Biocable Development Unit'. Spider hid as he went in and emerged a few seconds later with two scientists. He heard one say, "They're just not ready."

And the dark-skinned man reply with, "We've already let one die, we will not be letting another."

When they were gone, the teen jogged over to the pad, his senses on high alert, and entered the code that he saw.

Thankfully, the door clicked open. Peter snuck inside and discovered machines building, packaging, and organizing small capsules of what looked like his web fluid.

 _This must be where they manufacture it_ , he thought, remembering the research he did on Oscorp to figure how to create his own webs.

Turning around, he saw a door to a room that was covered in a blue glow. He peeked his head in but found nobody inside. Just a lot of webbing on circular, rotating fence-like walls.

Peter wanted to go inside but was stopped when he heard footsteps nearing the room. They were far enough away that he had time to escape, so he did.

Thanks to his awful luck, Gwen found him as he tried to re-join the group. He groaned and handed over his badge, knowing he deserved it.

That night, Peter did a lot of contemplating.


	32. Ch 31-What the fu-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I might be pulling a sneaky on you guys in the next one ;)
> 
> Stay safe!
> 
> ~Swindle

**3rd POV**

"So what's up with the scar on your face?" Ned asked, followed by him being elbowed harshly by Harry, who gave him a look that said ' _Shut up_ '. Gwen–she had recently joined their group–looked up from her studies to shoot him the same look.

Peter laughed and waved his hands reassuringly, thinking of a simple but believable lie, "It's okay. I got this when I fell in bramble patch a long time ago. I broke my fall with my hands," He held out his hands, showing the slim scars that were really caused by knives and other thin weapons, "but one of the tendrils was long enough the reach my face. It wasn't a good day."

A flicker of disbelief shone in Harry's eyes, though it was gone as quick as it came and Spider questioned whether he truly saw something or not. Osborn grinned, "Ouch. That's gotta hurt."

"Oof. Would not like to be you at that time." Ned scrunched his face up in displeasure as he finished chewing his salami sandwich. Gwen laughed but said nothing.

"Yeah 'cause Penis Parker is such an idiotic klutz! Can't even avoid a sharp bramble patch when he sees one." Flash sneered and shoved him a little as he passed, some goons laughing as they followed.

Peter's cheeks flushed red but he didn't comment, instead let his friends glare pointlessly at the back of the bully.

"I can't fathom why you let him bully you." Harry growled, still eyeing Eugene.

Spider shrugged, "Better me than someone else." He decided to change the topic, opting for a question that's been on his mind since the previous night, "I know you run a company and you intern and Oscorp, but what about you, Ned? Do you have a job?"

"I volunteer at an animal shelter." The brown-skinned teenager replied. His dark eye widened, "Did I never tell you?"

"No. But that's pretty cool. Think I could come look at the animals." He joked, tongue peeking out from between his teeth in amusement.

Ned snorted, "Uh-huh. You're always so busy with that internship with Tony Stark, I'm sure he–"

"No way in hell Puny Parker has an internship with the Tony Stark. They wouldn't accept poor orphans like him when they could get richer, smarter people like me! Bet you haven't even met him before." Flash jeered as he passed by again. He still refused to think this was the same boy his brother Jesse had yakked on about non-stop– the boy who was Stark's personal intern. He'd been bullying him about the internship since he first heard them talking in September.

The four friends ignored him and kept talking.

**[Mr. Stark >:)]**

_**(Spider-boy)** _

**Hey, Mr. Stark. I know the whole me-living-with-the-Avengers thing is supposed to be a secret but Ned already knows I 'intern' and spend a lot of time here. He's one of my closest friends and I trust him so I was wondering if I could tell him I live with you guys?**

**Or at least invite him over/tell him I have a room at the tower?**

Stark knew how much Ned meant to him. The boy was the closest friend–aside from Shuri but she's halfway across the world–he had, at least at the school. They had been friends since the start of the year and Peter really enjoyed the boy's company. Tony wanted him to be happy– he wouldn't get in the way unless it was serious.

_**(Mr. Stark)** _

**If your little Spidey Sense deems him a non-threat, then it should be okay. You can tell him you have a room here.**

**Actually, I've been thinking. A press conference wouldn't be such a bad idea. I think it's time to announce to world that I have a mentee. What do you say?**

_**(Spider-boy)** _

**I'm not... entirely opposed to the idea.**

**But at the same time I don't want the world knowing who I am. Maybe you could announce that you have an intern, just not who? That way Ned and I can keep it a secret.**

**I'm so sorry that's probably a lot to ask. We can do what you want.**

_**(Mr. Stark)** _

**Relax, kid. Don't get your spandex in a twist. I'm cool with that idea. I'll announce that I have an intern but won't mention who. Say whatever you want to the kid as long as he can keep it a secret.**

**I have a short mission with Steve and Vision later so I won't be home until late tonight. Bruce will be in the labs though.**

Peter was practically vibrating out of his seat in the cafeteria. A huge over-excited grin was spread from ear to ear.

"You look happy." Harry chuckled lightly.

"Mind telling us what about?" Gwen asked, brushing hair out of her face.

"Mhm." He replied, not able to form words as his eyes skimmed the text again and again, making sure he wasn't imagining it.

"C'mon dude, what's so awesome?" Ned asked with eyebrows raised.

"Can I speak to Ned in private? Sorry, you two." Peter apologized with a near-flustered look on his face.

"No worries. I'll just finish the consumption of lunch."

Gwen hummed softly and turned back to her notes.

"Uh-huh." Spider nodded, eyes squinted, as he dragged Leeds to the quieter hall.

When it was near-silent, only distant echoing footsteps and their steady breathing/heartbeats, Peter spilled the tea, "Dude, I have something stellar to tell you but you _have_ to keep it a secret or else."

Ned nodded hastily and the captivated expression he had urged Parker to continue.

There was a pause and a deep breath.

"I kinda live with the Avengers." _Wow_ , it came out much more nervous and hesitant than he initially thought it would.

"You _what_? Avengers– wha– tower live– _there_?" He spluttered loudly, jaw already on the floor.

"Shh!" Peter's hand slapped over his mouth and he looked around the quiet hall, exhaling with relief when he heard nobody within hearing range, "Not so loud."

"Right, sorry! That's just– _woah_. How? Why?" Ned lowered his voice but it was still a whisper-yell.

"Long story. Can't say. But I've been living with them since March-ish."

The Filipino boy nodded wisely, understanding that his best friend couldn't tell him anything.

"So, do you want to come over after school? Maybe for a sleepover? It's Friday so no school tomorrow. Mr. Stark said you could come over."

Ned looked like he was going to faint at any given moment. THE Tony Stark gave him permission to stay at his tower. His face was pale and his eyes were blown wider than ever before, "I– _YES_."

He fumbled pulling out his phone and had to concentrate while forcing his sweaty, nervous hands to type each word. A few minutes later, his phone dinged.

"I can come."

Well, now he looked like he won the lottery.

Late that afternoon, they got in Happy's black Audi and drove off.

Thirty minutes of constant chatter went by and Ned's face gradually morphed into one of confusion. Peter cocked his head in question.

"Dude, where are we going?"

Spider looked outside and saw the New York city skyline leave them behind as they merged onto a three-lane highway. It dawned on him, "We're going to the Compound. That's where I spend my weekends. I always go Friday after school instead of Saturday mornings.

"We're going." He inhaled sharply and put his hands in a prayer motion, "To the _Compound_?"

"Yup!" Peter replied cheerfully and Ned wondered how he could be so nonchalant about such unbelievably awesome things.

The car rolled up and the two teens thanked Happy as they exited, earning an unamused grumble and eager goodbye.

Ned trailed after Peter like an excited puppy, pointing out every little thing in the place. Spider found it hilarious–considering he was used to the sleek interior–, especially his reaction when FRIDAY granted him high-level access.

On the way up, questions poured out of his mouth with no filter whatsoever, "Are all the Avengers here?" He didn't give Peter time to answer before rambling on, "Oh my God I bet they are. What will they think of me? I'm going to embarrass myself somehow. Wait that means you know Bruce Banner, right? He's the best scientist ever. And Tony Stark– God, he's so cool. And the Winter Soldier. He's a famous assassin. Oh my God imagine living with an assassin."

 _You have no idea_ , "Don't call him that." Peter snarled, deadly fangs bared.

Ned squawked at his friend's unusual tone of voice and rushed to apologize, "I'm so sorry! Do you think–"

A ding sounded and the doors opened, revealing a curved hall and large wall-to-floor window.

"You'll be fine, Ned. They're all really nice. Sorry for getting angry. Sol– Bucky just doesn't like being called that. Bad memories and all that." Peter's shoulders relaxed as he guided his now-silent companion down the hall to where the common room was.

"R-right. Sorry."

"I'm home!" Spider called, dropping his bag by the breakfast bar.

Leeds froze in his spot, mouth slightly agape and eyes just as big as before.

Four Avengers were in the common room. Bucky, Natasha, Pietro, and Sam. Sam and Pietro were playing _Super Smash bros™_. Natasha was reading some mission reports at the kitchen table. And Bucky was observing the game between the other two men, though he got up to approach Peter when he heard him arrive.

Seeing the new figure in the room, he changed what he was going to say, "Hey, Peter. How was school?"

Spider beamed warmly and hugged him– causing Ned to be concerned because he swore the ex-assassin would murder him then and there. However, he quickly changed his mind when Bucky hugged back, a much smaller smile on his face. _Oh my God he's hugging the Winter– Bucky Barnes. How–? What is his life?_

"Really good!" He released the older male and chose not to rant about his day since Ned was here. "Guys, this is Ned. He's my friend. He also knows I live and have an internship here. He's spending the night. I don't think I need to introduce you to these people but I will anyways because it's polite. Ned, these are Bucky, Natasha, Pietro, and Sam."

"Hey." Natasha made eye-contact with him and nodded, then turned to Peter, "Hey маленький паук."

"Sup, man! Hi, Pete." Pietro called over his shoulder, eyes still trained on the intense battle in front of him.

"Hey to you both." Sam greeted.

"Afternoon." Bucky acknowledged with a dip of his head and held his real hand out for a handshake.

"H-hi." The heavier-set boy stuttered, gulping nervously. He shook Barnes' hands quickly, shying his gaze away from the steely blue-grey eyes.

"C'mon, let's go put our stuff in my room." Peter motioned for Ned to follow, knowing that he'll need a second to process what was happening.

Behind the closed doors of Spider's room, Leeds let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Instead of coherent words, a squeal escaped his lips.

"You good, man?" Peter asked with a light snicker, taking out his textbooks.

"I totally just embarrassed myself. They probably think I'm so weird."

"You're overthinking. You didn't embarrass yourself. Besides, they've obviously interacted with fans before, so I'm sure they're not phased." The curly-haired teen scoffed.

They started their homework but Peter was feeling hungry. He always had a snack after school to feed his metabolism, but he hadn't eaten anything since lunch. The time was 4:58pm and supper wasn't until around 6:30-7:00, so he had plenty of time to eat.

"Want a snack? Supper isn't until around seven o'clock."

"Yeah, sure, I could eat."

The boys padded out of Peter's room and towards the kitchen, "What do you want to eat?"

"Doesn't matter." Ned answered as coolly as possible considering there were still three of the four previous Avengers in the common room– Pietro had disappeared.

The brunette's eyes squinted as if to say 'Bro, that's not a satisfying answer'. However, he didn't care to ask again. Spider pulled out bread and cheese, "Does a grilled cheese sound good?"

"Sure, man."

Peter got to work, cooking up one plain grilled cheese for each of them. Meanwhile, Bucky hesitantly approached Ned and sat a few seats away from him at the breakfast bar. Barnes had no idea how to talk to people but Natasha and Sam had told him 'it's practice' and 'he probably thinks you're super cool, don't worry'. Which weren't reassuring remarks, but fine, whatever. Ned immediately went into internal panic mode when Sergeant Barnes sat a couple seats down.

"What do you want for dinner, Ned?" His rough yet smooth voice asked, sending him into an even more petrified state, "We're choosing between pizza, Thai, and Mexican."

"O-oh, uh, pizza is good?" He said, the stammered words coming out as a question.

"Peter?" The ex-assassin stiffly turned to the other teen.

"Pizza's fine."

He said nothing as he got up to ask the others.

"Hold on." Peter told Ned, running off to his room. A few seconds later, he emerged with all their homework, "I'm usually not supposed to eat in my room so we'll do our homework out here."

After thirty minutes of helping each other out, debating about the most random things, and talking about the teachers they disliked, they were finally done their work.

"Has anyone seen Tanya?" Peter asked, wanting to cuddle his kitty.

"Check Wanda's room!" An echoing voice from up in the vents called, startling Ned to the point of almost falling off his chair.

"Thank you!" Spider hollered back, then turned to his pal, "That was Clint," Peter was officially on a first-name basis with every Avenger except Tony, mainly to piss him off, "Wanna see my cat?"

"Hawkeye? Wha– in the– the vents?" He breathed, "Wait, you have a _cat_?"

"Yup. Mr. Stark got her for me for my birthday. We're going to find her because I haven't seen her all week and I miss her."

Leeds' mouth hung open with awe while the web-slinger knocked on Wanda's door.

"Come in." An accented voice called.

He pushed the door open to find Wanda lying down reading a book. Tanya was playing with a piece of string she had in her left hand.

"Oh my God that's Scarlet Witch."

Maximoff turned her head, hair obscuring most of her face, "You must be Ned."

"Ned, Wanda. Wanda, Ned. Wanda you stolen my cat and I plan on kitten-napping her back. There will be no objections on your behalf unless you wish for war." Peter commented briefly as he scooped up the feisty kitten and strode out of the room. Ned had no choice but to follow behind, shooting one last look at the now-laughing Wanda before closing her door.

They planted themselves on the couch and Peter turned on the news for some background noise.

Ned spoke up, "What's her name?"

"Tanya." He handed her the squirming kitty, "Be careful. She likes to nip at fingers. Especially thumbs."

"Tanya's a weird name for cat." The Filipino boy remarked, then back-tracked, "N-not that it's a bad name it's just that I never considered–ow–" Tanya nipped his thumb with ferocity, "a name like that for any pet, really."

Peter laughed freely, "I named her after Tanya in _Mamma Mia_."

Leeds looked confused, his brows knitted and mouth shaped into a tight line, "Never seen it, man. Sorry."

"Wha–" Spider's mouth dropped open and he stopped scratching his cat's chin, "You've never seen _Mamma Mia_? Are you insane? Have you– have you been living under a rock?"

"What's so great about it?"

"Well for starters, its' the best feel-good movie ever. It's impossible not to smile while watching it. Also, it's a jukebox musical using songs from one of _the best_ bands of all time so that's an automatic win. But it's so realistic yet..." Peter kept speed-ranting and Ned accepted defeat thirty seconds in because he knew there was no arguing with his best friend while this exuberant.

Slowly but surely, half of the Avengers trickled in. They listened to Peter's rant with small grins and told Ned that he could just ask the curly-haired teen to stop. Thankfully, he eventually did, moving on to talk about whatever the news was discussing.

" _Captain Stacy of the NYPD has recently deemed Queens' very own Spider-Man a 'vigilante', claiming he's dangerous. There have since..._ " A news reporter started, but Peter tuned her out after the first sentence. Bitter thoughts swirled in his mind and he forced himself not to scowl at the television.

He crossed his arms, a question slipping out without too much thought behind it, "What do you think of Spider-Man?"

The web-slinger earned some amused looks, eye-rolls, and restrained scoffs from the few Avengers in the room.

"I mean, I think he's a good guy. You know? Just some bad labeling from the police, no offense to them." Ned shrugged. "I think he's trying to do good. Like, just last week he saved two people from a burning apartment complex. That's pretty cool."

"You don't think he's a vigilante?" Peter licked his lips semi-nervously, semi-happily.

His friend laughed loudly, "No, not really. Do you?"

"No. I think he's just some guy trying to be a hero. Then again, nobody really knows much about him or his motives."

"Do you think he gets paid?"

"Who knows." It was his turn to laugh.

The elevator dinged, stopping them from continuing their chatter. Two people walked out, their faces hidden by the huge stacks of pizza boxes in their hands. However, by their boot-clad footfalls, Peter could just make out Bucky and Sam.

"Pizza time!" Sam called loudly, causing the sensitive Spider to wince. The two set down the food on the coffee tables and counters, opened for everyone to dive right in.

Clint came hurtling down the hall, only one thing on his mind.

"So you come for pizza but not to say hello?" Peter jabbed playfully and the man looked like a deer in headlights– a piece of meat lover's stuffed halfway into his mouth. He said something–probably an excuse–but it was completely muffled by the food occupying his breathing hole.

Natasha swatted him over the back and scowled menacingly, "Don't speak with your mouth full. And slow down."

He just nodded and went back to scarfing the slice down– much to her chagrin.

Distracting herself from her ignorant friend, the redhead turned to Peter and Ned, "So what are we watching tonight?"

" _Mamma Mia_ because _apparently_ , he hasn't seen it. Which is just appalling." The honey-eyed boy put a hand to his heart in mock offense. Ned just sighed and chuckled lowly, taking a few pieces of pizza for himself.

The brown-skinned boy earned many gasps and disbelieving comments. Mainly from Clint and Rhodey.

A man in a purple shirt with mussed black haired stumbled tiredly into the room, hungrily smelling the air as he went.

"Hey, Bruce." Wanda greeted, seeing the man first.

"Mmhi." He muttered with a weak wave as he grabbed food.

"When was the last time you ate?" Natasha raised a brow, giving him an intimidating look.

The scientist shrunk at the look. "...Yesterday?"

Romanoff made a ' _tsk_ ' noise but didn't need to say anything else by the defeated look on the man's face.

"Ohmygodyou'rethe–" Ned started.

"Hulk. Yup. That's me." Bruce sighed with a hint of annoyance.

"I mean, yeah that too. But you're _the_ Dr. Bruce Banner. I've read your thesis and your book on ' _Gamma Radiation_ ' and your ' _Experiences and Experiments with Gamma Radiation_ '." His eyes resumed their beyond-starry state as he rambled on about the scientist.

Banner could do nothing but look flustered, shocked, and thrilled as the teenager fanboyed over him. He glanced over at Peter, who merely shrugged and offered an encouraging thumbs-up.

Sensing the Dr.'s nervousness, Natasha spoke up, "Let's start the movie."

Everybody complied and got themselves situated around the TV, gathering blankets and pillows to stay comfortable and warm. Ned took the corner while Peter sat beside him leaning against Bucky's left arm. Natasha plopped herself in front of the curly-haired teen so he could braid her hair. There was enough room for everybody else to have a spot on the couch or the various chairs– thanks to Steve, Tony, and Vision being gone.

"FRIDAY, play _Mamma Mia_." Pietro commanded as he sunk further into Clint's side.

The movie started up and Ned was skeptical at first, though quickly got into the easy-going, fun groove of things. Neither Ned nor Peter showed it at school (or with the Avengers, really) but they were both secretly theatre nerds. They didn't know that many shows, and have seen much fewer, but they loved them. _Mamma Mia the Movie_ , despite not being a musical, was still a movie-musical– much like Disney which they also loved.

The Filipino boy found himself happily humming along to the songs he recognized.

When the film was over, Peter–who was now curled into Soldier's side–turned his head towards him with an expression that said ' _Well?_ '.

"Awesome." Ned nodded vigorously, beaming.

"Good." Now his face smugly said ' _Told you so_ '.

It was still only around nine so they had time for another movie.

"FRIDAY, play _Groundhog Day_."

Half an hour in, both boys began to get sleepy. Peter's eyes were closed and he sunk graciously into the warmth of his heated blanket and Bucky's furnace-like body. Ned's eyes were beginning to droop shut and his posture slouched a little.

Bucky glanced over at the two, noticing their spent states. He sighed, though not in discontent, and gently stood up, taking Peter in his arms as he did so. Barnes turned to Ned, "You look tired. You can follow me to Peter's room."

The ex-assassin left no time for the boy to decide before he strode off down the hall. Leeds scrambled to get up and hurried after him, yawning hugely as he went. Bucky tucked Peter in, muttered a quick 'goodnight'–mostly directed to Spider–, and awkwardly shuffled out.

Ned was out like a light.

Peter, on the other hand, fully woke as soon as his Bucky's natural warmth left him behind on the cold surface of his Queen bed. He bit back a whine, even though he could hear that his second-best friend was sound asleep.

Spider lay there, peering at the plants on his desk with his night-vision eyes. Laying there felt tiring in itself. Leeds' soft snores and the rhythmic ticking of his analog clock were the only sounds filling his sensitive ears.

Many minutes of restlessness went by, the ex-assassin growing no closer to his previously fatigued state. Really, it came as no surprise. He had been officially diagnosed with insomnia quite a while back. Also not a surprise. Spider doesn't remember the last time he got more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep at a time. Neither him nor the other two scientists he knows are sure if he was born with it– simply unlucky genetics. Or if he got it from living in an actual hellhole for so long. Parker speculated that it was the second for many reasons, but never liked talking about it. It made sense because Bucky also had it and he was another ex-HYDRA puppet. (Tony had it too but that's unrelated).

Peter shivered, even with his heated blanket on, and sat up when his tummy grumbled. _Guess it's time for a snack_.

Pulling his blanket around his shoulders to form a toasty cape, the teen slipped silently out of the room and down the hall. Hushed voices of Steve, Tony, Bucky, and Rhodey came from the kitchen,

"How was the mission?" Peter asked as he rounded the glass corner.

"Went well. It was pretty easy. Can't sleep?" Tony both answered and asked.

A soft yet irritated sigh escaped his lips and he padded over to the left over pizza, "Never."

They nodded and went back to talking, letting Peter eat his food while watching the trees in peace.

"Hey kid, how're you feelin'?" Bucky's voice suddenly muttered from behind him, nearly startling the web-slinger.

"Not very tired at all." He let out a dry laugh. "You?"

"The same."

Peter instinctively inched closer to his warmth and Barnes slung his arm around the kid's shoulder. The teenager let himself get lost in the swaying of the trees and the harsh light of the outdoor lanterns. He finished his food beside his favourite person, still not looking anywhere but outside.

Thoughts shifted and swirled through his messed up brain, clicking together like puzzle pieces every once in awhile to form haunting thoughts about his past. But they ended up clicking too well together and Spider went rigid, a sharp exhale forced from his mouth. Soldier eyed him, analyzing what was wrong.

Oh.

His eyes were tinted red. Not full-on red. Only a little.

He wasn't the Winter Spider right now. Nor Peter. He was something else. Something that happened every once in awhile. Something that was a side-effect of brainwashes. Something both ex-assassins had. Spider was now a quiet and obedient entity. No bloodlust or expectations to kill– just a silent boy with limited knowledge about his free will.

Bucky turned to the men who were still seated around the table, chatting lowly, "Happened again."

They knew what he meant. Their faces grew concerned. Steve spoke up, "Is he okay? Any bad symptoms?"

The brunette turned to the younger brunette, "Spider? How do you feel?"

He looked confused for a moment before speaking, "I feel fine, Soldier.'

"Don't seem like anythin's wrong." Bucky called back.

The best thing to do in these scenarios is either wait until Peter 'wakes up' or until he falls asleep and his brain reboots. There was no cure. It was purely a waiting game. Though compared to his past alternatives, this version of Peter was not a problem to deal with.

"Want anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you." _Same ol' answer. Was worth a try._

"D'you know where you are?"

"I believe I'm in the Avengers Compound."

"Tired at all?"

His brow furrowed momentarily before returning to its original smooth line, "Slightly. I'm not sure how much."

Bucky hummed. "D'you want to lie down somewhere?"

"That would be nice."

"Need any help gettin' up?" He held out his hand.

Spider took it and heaved himself up, "Sure. Thank you."

"No problem. The couch or my room?" The discarded heated blanket was gathered by his strong arms.

"It's your choice. Wherever you feel the most comfortable." The curly-haired teen latched onto one of his arms like he does each time this happens.

Barnes took into account that if Ned found them asleep together on the couch the next morning, it would be a tricky situation to explain. "My room. C'mon." He dipped his head as he passed the others, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Peter echoed, much quieter.

A chorus of 'goodnights' sounded behind them as they stepped into Bucky's room.

"Stay here, I need to brush my teeth and change."

Parker complied and sat on the very edge of the bed, looking around the emptier room with dull, red-tinted eyes. He listened to the ticking of another analog clock in this room, counting each second without registering he was doing so.

"Put this on." Bucky tossed the indifferent teen one of his Henleys.

Of course, he did as told and folded his clothes on the floor, placing them neatly by the foot of the bed.

"Let's lie down." Soldier pulled back the covers and gently helped Spider under, sliding in beside him so the boy could latch onto his warm arm.

Since neither was tired, they laid there in easy silence– except for the very faint music playing in the background.

The two did not fall asleep until very late.

The following day, Ned fanboyed over Stark and Rogers, nearly talking the former's ear off. Tony didn't mind much. The kid was smart so nothing he said was a waste to hear.

A week had passed and Ned had visited the Tower a couple times. Mostly for school. Gwen was now 'officially' part of their small group. And Harry, well, he was Harry. He had his company and schoolwork to balance. Hanging out with him after school was very rare. And usually at Ned's place.

"Excited for Halloween?" Harry asked him one day at lunch.

Spider panicked but forced the confusion from showing on his face. He offered a disinterested shrug, "A little." His mind flitted through all the advertisements he's seen so far. From what he gathered, it was an event targeted towards kids. Other than that, he knew nothing. "Isn't it a kid thing? We're teenagers."

"Yeah but we get to go to parties!" Ned elbowed him excitedly. "I heard Hailey Maxwell invited the whole Junior year to her Halloween costume party."

Ah yes, Hailey Maxwell. Richest girl in school. Maybe not the most popular, but still in the top three. Her parties were notorious for being chaotically awesome.

"Sounds fun, I'm in." Not like Peter had plans on Halloween. He didn't even know the event was, for goodness sake.

"I don't know if I can go. Stupid company stuff." Harry cursed quietly, placing down a card for their game, "Plus four, Gwen."

The blond's face scrunched with dissatisfaction and she reluctantly took her cards.

"Gwen?" Peter implied something without actually saying it.

"I won't be going. I take my brothers out with their friends every year. Sorry."

They tried to convince her but she didn't budge.

A frown forced itself onto Spider's lips, but he said nothing.

"Guess it's just me and you, man." Ned commented, the slightest hint of sadness laced into his voice.

"Guess so."

Later that day, when the curly-haired teen had swung home, he walked into Tony' lab, a question that he needed answers to on his mind.

"Hey, Pete. How was school? Come help me with this." The man greeted without looking up.

"Good. Totally aced my quiz today. It was super easy. I have a question." He plopped down beside the billionaire, taking a look at the smoke bombs he was upgrading.

"Do tell."

"What's Halloween?"

Stark faltered for a second, his mini screwdriver slipping out of his fingers and his breath hitching.

"It's a day– well, a night, where kids go around different neighbourhoods knocking on doors and saying 'trick or treat' to solicit candy from strangers."

"I thought there was a whole 'stranger danger' thing for children? Especially for taking candy from strangers." The teenager muttered with confusion, the corners of his lips tugging up in light amusement.

Tony laughed deeply, shaking his head while he picked his screwdriver back up. "Parents are there supervising. Usually."

Spider hummed and spun around in his wheely chair, "There's a costume party on Halloween that Ned and I plan on going to."

"Who's hosting?"

"Some popular girl, Hailey Maxwell. She's the richest girl in school. That's what everyone says, at least. Can I go?"

"I don't see why not. Where is it?" The genius' brows furrowed.

"Queens. I searched up the address and it looks like a fancy suburb."

"You can go. It's not like you need to be that careful of muggings."

"Sweet. Thanks." Peter grinned widely, not even sure what he was agreeing to do.

"Now grab that green capsule over there."

"Join me, and together, we'll build my new Lego Death Star." Ned's Emperor Palpatine impersonation sounded from behind him, a plastic figure held Spider's shoulder.

"What!?" The ex-assassin exclaimed loudly with joy, earning a mean remark from the group of cheerleaders beside them. He quieted his voice, "Now, way that's awesome! How many pieces?"

"Three thousand eight hundred and three." He was a little proud.

"That's insane." Parker breathed as he turned to put some books in his locker.

"I know!" Leeds gushed with glee. "You wanna build it tonight?"

"No, I can't tonight. I got the Stark–"

"Mmhm. Stark Internship. Always got that internship."

They walked down the hall to the first class of their day.

"Yeah, well, hopefully soon it'll lead to a real job with them."

 _An Avenger. I could be one of them if I worked hard enough_.

"That would be so sweet. He'd be all, 'Good job on those spreadsheets, Peter. Here's a gold coin'." They looked at each other and Ned shrugged, "I don't know how jobs work."

"That's exactly how they work." He _thinks_.

"Oh. Heh."

Ned kept talking and Peter agreed that he could come over before dinner to build it– that way he at least had the rest of the night to patrol and do homework. As they trudged slowly down the crowded hall, Spider caught sight of Gwen going down another hall, talking to some girl friends. She was laughing and smiling about something, pushing the hair from her face. The sound of Ned's voice was unconsciously tuned out so Peter just agreed to whatever he was saying while watching the sunny girl pass.

 _She's pretty,_ He concluded simply, closing his somehow-open mouth and choosing not to dwell on it much longer.

Peter stopped a car thief right after school that day. It was probably one of the funniest crimes he's ever stopped. The guy was very oblivious, calling him a cop despite the obviousness that he was Spider-Man. Sadly, when he webbed the man up, the real police showed up and tried to arrest him. That was his cue to skedaddle.

He got caught up in a robbery and mugging, but quickly dealt with them. The teen was set on going home to do his homework, do chores, eat dinner, then go back out. Queens just had to wait a couple hours.

One of the window's to Peter's room was opened by FRIDAY and he crept in, crawling along the ceiling towards the creaked-open door. Holding his breath, the teenager softly pushed the door shut, thankful that it didn't creak. Spider wasn't sure why he was being so secretive. It's not like his alter-ego was hidden from them. It just felt right to be quiet.

He unstuck himself and jumped down, feet making no noise when they collided with the soft carpet. Peter took off his backpack and placed it next to his dresser, sighing in pain from the new bruises on his back.

 _Crash_.

The distinct sound of hundreds of Lego pieces breaking abused his ears and he winced, shoulders hunching upwards. With a cringe marring his features, Peter turned to find Ned, mouth hanging wide open, and a lack of Death Star in his cupped hands– it was in a broken, sad pile on the floor.

Ned abruptly stood up from where he sat on a beanbag near the desk, both boys now frozen facing each other.

"What was that?" Natasha's muffled voice asked loudly as she passed by his room.

"Uh– nothing!" He called, voice breaking and hand facing the door as if he were stopping her from coming in.

"You're the Spider-Man." Ned whispered, stunned. "From YouTube."

Peter pressed the spider emblem on his chest and the suit fell down to his ankles. Thank God he wore his bandages every day. Otherwise, all his scars would be exposed right now.

This was not a situation he could get out of.

But he tried. Fruitlessly. "I'm not. I'm not."

Ned pointed a shaky finger to the ceiling, "You were on the ceiling."

"No– I wasn't– Ned, what are you doing in my room?" Desperation mixed with frustration seeped into his voice, making it hard for him to keep quiet.

"Ms. Romanoff let me! You said we were gonna finish the Death Star!" The brown-skinned boy argued back.

"You can't just bust into my room–" Peter stumbled forward and swiftly turned to web his door fully shut when he heard Natasha's faint footsteps and knuckles against the wood.

"Peter, what's going on?" Her concerned voice asked, hands shaking the doorknob.

Spider got some web solution and got rid of the sticky substance blocking her from entering. He cracked open the door so only his eyes were visible. "I'll tell you later, okay? But right now I'm kinda busy with Ned so if you don't mind I have to talk to him."

She looked extremely skeptical. "Okay." Natasha prolonged the word. "Well, you and I are going to go out with Dorothy for sushi at six. Ned is welcome to come along."

"No. He's got– he's got a thing."

"A thing... to do after." The friend chimed in helpfully.

"Okay." Their uncertainty didn't help her suspicions but she walked away anyway.

Peter shut the door and grabbed a shirt–it was Bucky's but he stole it when Ned came over the first time–off his desk chair.

"Does she know?" Leeds exhaled, pointing to the door.

"Of course she knows. All the Avengers know. Mr. Stark was the first though 'cause he made my suit. But I'm pretty sure she was suspicious before. She's smarter than she lets on." Peter sped-talked as he got dressed.

"Tony Stark made you that?" Ned whisper-yelled making lots of hand motion to articulate how overwhelmingly dope this all was. He'd met the man twice but still couldn't grasp that Peter got to hang out with him all the time– not to mention live with him. "Are you an Avenger?"

 _Not exactly_. He was working towards becoming one. Even though he was against lying, he let this slip. Just once. "Yeah, uh, basically."

Ned, with a hand to his heart as he tried to process this all, stumbled back into the chair he previously sat in.

"You can't tell anybody about this. You gotta keep it a secret." Peter whispered harshly.

"What, why?"

"If people find out that I do this every single night they'll know about my friends, therefore know about my weaknesses and I can't have any of you guys die. I won't be able to do this anymore." He paused to suck in a whole lot of air, then exhaled. "Come on, Ned, please?"

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay."

Ned swore not to tell any of their friends and Spider's breathing relaxed, heart going back to its normal tempo.

Then the battalion of questions arrived. They spewed out of Ned's mouth with no filter or time in-between for an answer.

Peter just guided the boy out of the Tower and called him a taxi. "I'll tell you about it at school tomorrow."

**[Broken family group chat]**

_**(Spider-boy)** _

**Ned knows about Spider-Man.**

Peter sighed and sagged onto his bed, ignoring the flood of dings from his phone in favour of just contemplating what to do from here on out.

He fucked up, that's for sure.


	33. Ch 32-Branzino?

**3rd POV**

"You got bit by a spider?" Ned asked as they walked to school the next day. "Can it bite me? Well, it probably woulda hurt, right? You know what whatever. Even if it did hurt, I would let it bite me. M-maybe. How much did it hurt?"

"Spider's dead, Ned." Peter replied a bit curtly.

After a long silence of Leeds visibly struggling to not talk, he opened his mouth again, "Do you lay eggs?"

Spider's head whipped around to face his friend, shock and confusion written clearly on his face, "What? No." He laughed.

Later in biology, Ned wheeled over to him, "Do you spit venom?"

Peter cringed a little, remembering all the people he killed with it, including the illusion Bucky. He nodded stiffly and whispered, "Yes."

Ned's eyes widened and his lips parted in awe. "Can you summon an army of spiders?"

Parker almost laughed as he tried to pay attention to Mr. Harrington, "No, Ned."

The next class the web-slinger had with Ned was Spanish. They couldn't talk about his alter-ego during lunch since Gwen and Harry were there. So, the questions came back during class.

"How far can you shoot your webs?"

"Don't know. Shut up." Peter was growing tired. Though the flabbergasted look on Ned's face was rather amusing, he didn't like the constant stream of queries.

"If I was you, I would stand on the edge of a building and just shoot it as far as I could."

" _Shut up_ , Ned." He whisper-yelled, gritting his teeth in frustration. He ignored the murderous look he got from a female student in front of him.

Gym came next and the class listened to one of Captain America's PSA's. Spider bit back his laugh. He was definitely going to bring this up later.

"Do you train with _him_ , too?" Ned asked, thinking about how his friend got to train with _the_ Black Widow. Maybe he trained with other Avengers?

"Yeah. I stole his shield." The grin escaped his lips when he thought about the time he and Steve were training. Rogers was allowed to use his shield since he wasn't as strong, but Peter had webbed it out of his hands in the first ten seconds. The bewildered look on his face was priceless.

Ned asked more questions during sit-ups, only to be constantly shushed by a very annoyed Peter.

"Hey, can I be your guy in a chair?"

"What?" Peter squinted and tilted his head a fraction of an inch. _Guy in a chair? What's that?_

"You know how there's a guy. In a chair. Telling the other guy where to go? Like– like, if you were stuck in a burning building, I could tell you where to go because there'd be screens around me and I could swivel around them 'cause I'd be your guy in the chair."

"Ned, I don't need a guy in a chair." As tempting as it sounded, he wasn't sure he wanted a voice in his ear constantly while he fought bad guys and rescued civilians.

"Looking good, Parker." Coach Wilson commented as he passed, causing Peter to realize he was over-doing it and totally not keeping up his 'weak, nerdy' persona. He let out a strained breath and made everything look harder.

Spider invited Ned to the tower that night. Tony had requested a meeting with the two teens and the other Avengers to go over the whole Ned-knows-almost-everything thing.

Peter led his friend to the designated conference room.

Every single Avenger was waiting, all gathered around a table. Even Thor had made an appearance.

Ned had never seen all the Avengers in the same place before. Oh God, it was incredibly overwhelming.

"Take a seat, boys." Tony's voice commanded coolly, gesturing to the last two seats available. "Skipping the pleasantries, Ned, do you know why you're here?"

Ned shivered under his hard gaze, "Peter mentioned something about keeping everything a secret. He made me swear not to tell anyone about," He gestured to everything around him, "this."

"Ding, ding, ding, you're correct. Now, since you know about everything, you need to sign some legal papers saying you're sworn to silence." Tony pushed one of three packets of paper over.

"Let me guess, they're from SHIELD?" Peter asked with a grin.

"Fury pulled a few strings." Natasha shrugged, mirroring his grin.

"Illegal strings for a legal matter." The doe-eyed teen rolled his eyes and let out a short laugh.

"The first one is swearing not to tell anyone that Peter being my personal intern is a lie, despite my recent announcement." Stark showed him where to sign and he did.

"Next one is is for Spider-Man's identity." Another round of signatures.

"And finally, that Peter lives with us." Even though Ned had already signed a document similar to this, he had to do it again.

Natasha tossed him a card, which the Filipino boy caught ungracefully, "Access to the Tower and Compound. You're officially in FRIDAY's database, so you can get into places with face recognition alone. However the badge is a must if you want as much access as us."

"Woah." He examined the sleek black, dark grey, and red badge in his hand. It had his name in big bold letters at the top. Underneath was a picture of him, along with some personal info and badge name– 'AlphaNegative'. "This is so _cool_. Thank you so much I have no idea what to say."

They just nodded and smiled slightly wryly.

They discussed some more ground rules and how things operated in the tower. Y'know, _do's_ , _don't's_ , that kind of stuff.

"Are you sure you guys are okay with this?" Peter asked for the second time at dinner.

"We already told you, it's fine. He's your friend and he seems like an alright kid." Tony assured. "Besides, it's not your fault this happened. People make mistakes, believe me." He whispered the last part.

Parker felt a small portion of the weight on his shoulders lift.

It was nearing the end of October–days before Halloween–and Peter sat with Ned in the cafeteria. Harry had been called out of school earlier that day for some business meeting.

It was easy to forget that Harry ran a company. Despite always having an air of power and professionalism, he was charming, funny, and had a carefree attitude. Harry loved regular teenager things like Uno, video games, and watching stupid videos online. Nothing like the uptight businessman you'd imagine. 

Gwen was busy putting up posters for the Debate Team.

Which brings us to Peter's current activity.

Watching her put up the posters.

Not the actual posters part– just Gwen herself.

Peter found the blond very interesting. Her flowing pale locks, calming blue eyes, and smile that could light up a room. Spider couldn't help but smile too. It was as contagious as a yawn. When Ned had caught him smiling at her smile in the hall one day, he had asked, 'Dude, do you have a crush on _Gwen Stacy_?' That comment got him thinking. _Do I? Am I crushing on Gwen Stacy? Is this want this is?_ As much as he liked spending time with her and seeing her happy, he wasn't exactly sure that it was a crush.

But then again, he had never crushed on anyone before, so this could very well be it. This warmth when she asked him how he was doing post-Flash encounter. The smile that broke out on his face when she laughed at one of his jokes. Her caring attitude when she urged the boys to study. The very un-intimidating sternness of her voice when the three other teens got remotely into trouble.

It was nice.

She was a good person, inside and out.

Peter had his chin in his hands, eyes lazily watching Gwen put up posters across the cafeteria. "Did Gwen get a new top?"

"No." Ned commented, somewhat tired of his friend's miniature infatuation, "We've seen that before. But never with that skirt."

A few of Gwen's other friends complimented her posters as they walked by and a bright smile broke out on her face. 

Peter smiled too, but forced it away. "I should probably stop staring before it gets creepy though."

"Too late." A female voice from a few seats down said to them, causing the two to turn their heads. Ah, it was MJ, another pile of books with her, as expected. "You guys are losers."

"W– Then, why do you sit with us?" Ned asked in confusion. MJ always sat a few chairs down from them. Not exactly with them, but not far enough that they couldn't ever talk to her– not like they did, anyway.

"'Cause I don't have any friends." Brutal honesty. Her specialty.

The boys didn't have anything to say to that so they turned back to their food in silence. The faintest thought of Natasha flashed through Peter's mind when he thought of what MJ said.

"Are you really going to the party dressed like that?" Ned burst out laughing, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

Peter looked down at his costume, smirking at the risk he was taking, "I don't see the problem with it."

Leeds shook his head, "You– You're literally wearing your Spider Suit! What if somebody realizes you're Spider-Man?"

He shrugged, thinking about how he tinkered with the suit so the lenses wouldn't move, "It'll be fine. Nobody will notice."

Ned sighed and fiddled with the Leia buns on the side of his head, "Whatever dude. I'm totally not covering for you."

They rolled up to Hailey's huge mansion and exited the car, thanking Dorothy as they went.

Peter took a deep breath and marched up the stairs, determined to act chill and normal for the night.

Inside, lights flashed, music blared, and voices screamed. The smell of alcohol, pizza, and pop was strong on everyone's breaths. Peter nearly collapsed from the onslaught of feelings.

Ned saw that his friend was as stiff as a statue, "You good, man?"

"Y-yeah, just... lots of noises and smells to get used to."

He nodded, aware that Peter had heightened senses.

Spider led the way through the crowd towards the smell of pop. Angels, cats, samurais, Avengers, cowboys, and even an eggplant costume passed them as they went. Peter had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face when he counted five Spider-Man costumes. One of them being Flash– the DJ.

Time did not fly by. At all. Peter struggled to get used to the sounds and feelings. Outside wasn't much better since there were people there too– the majority of them getting high. Not a smell he could tolerate.

The two friends stuck to the edges, mingling with a few of the other partygoers. MJ was there but she said nothing to them. Merely squinted at them, took a sip of her Pepsi, and slunk off.

"That's a sick costume!" A loud voice exclaimed, nearly drowned out by the pulsing music.

Peter swiveled his head and saw Flash next to him, "O-oh thanks, man."

"Did you make it yourself? It looks like the real thing." The bully laughed as he examined the detailed material.

Spider chuckled nervously and looked over at Ned, who was talking with someone else. "Yeah. A friend helped. He knows how to do stuff like this." That wasn't technically a lie. Mr. Stark _did_ know how to make this stuff.

"Hey, you wanna come play seven minutes in heaven?"

"Uh, sure...?" He didn't know the game, but let Flash tug him towards a group of people up stairs in a spare bedroom that wasn't... _occupied_.

A brunette chick who he didn't recognize spoke up in a nasally voice once they were seated, "You know the rules. Bottle lands on you and you do whatever in the closet with the person who spun it."

_Oh. No._

Since he was stubborn, Peter sat down in the circle, observing the game. Nobody had landed on him yet and he hadn't spun yet, but that would change soon.

A guy–dressed as Inigo Montoya who he did not recognize either–got him.

"Come on, Spider-Man." He dragged a numb Peter to the closet in the hall since the one in the room was too filled with useless junk.

As they got in the dimly lit closet, Spider saw the guy lick his lips just a little. He didn't know why, but that made him more queasy than he already was.

"Let's get this over with." Inigo didn't sound like he wanted out– he sounded like he wanted to do this desperately. Something predatory– something _Skip_ flashed in his dark chocolate irises.

Peter gulped and stood frozen when the other teen advanced, pulling the bottom of his mask to his nose.

When his lips were only an inch away, the doe-eyed teen pushed him away, regret washing over his face, "I-I'm sorry. I just– I can't do this." His voice broke. He couldn't have his first kiss with this guy. Not like this. Not in a closet with a stranger for some stupid party game that he didn't even understand.

Peter opened the door and rushed down the hall, pushing through the swath of people to get downstairs.

"Ned, I'm getting out of here."

"Wha–?" Leeds noticed the clenched jaw, tight line of Parker's lips, and how he looked behind him every couple of seconds. 

"I'm leaving. You can stay. But I need to get out of here. It's too much." With that, he rushed out, sprinting down the street until he found a rusty playground that could serve as a quiet sanctuary.

He sat on a creaky swing, heels tucked in front of his butt and arms around his knees so he was relying on balance alone to stay seated. The whine of the steady-rocking swing was nothing compared to the blaring music and loud conversations at the party.

Peter wiped away a tear that he hadn't realized was there before.

He didn't know why he was making a big deal out of this. It was just a kiss. _Just a kiss_. Who was he kidding? It wasn't _just a kiss_. He'd never kissed or been kissed by anyone before. For some unknown reason, Peter felt that a first kiss was an important thing. An honour you gave to someone you trusted– not somebody you've never met before, let alone talk to before.

Spider sighed and looked up at the street full of trick-or-treaters– they couldn't see him in the dark playground, thank goodness. The party was finally out of earshot so Peter was now left listening to the kids gathering their candy. He turned his gaze to the sky, wishing he were in the Compound so he could look at the stars. The teen let the cold breeze lash at the unmasked half of his face, revelling in the fresh air it offered.

He wondered how Gwen was. Hopefully she wasn't too cold or too bored. _Does she enjoy taking her brothers out for trick-or-treating?_

And Harry. How was he? He hated business meetings almost as much as Tony did. Hopefully, he too wasn't bored beyond belief.

Peter smiled softly and got up, taking his phone out when it rang.

"Peter, where are you?" Ned's frantic voice asked.

"Some playground a few blocks down. I'm going home. To bed. I'm tired. I can call somebody to pick you up if you don't have a ride."

"No, it's cool, my uncle can drive me. Goodnight. And feel better!" He hung up.

Peter's arm dropped to his side and he turned toward the direction of the Tower. Again, he wished the bright lights of the buildings were simply stars in the sky.

A few days passed and Peter had been a little distant, but nobody had prodded for information. He was thankful he had such considerate friends.

Flash was being rude, as always. This time, it was during AP Calculus when he knocked over a girl's can of paint with his basketball. It spilled all over the banner she was painting.

(Okay so it wasn't Calculus because Mrs. Meija wasn't there, there was no substitute, and Coach Wilson had to go somewhere after school. So, Peter's class and the Basketball team had stolen the empty second gym for a 'free period' and practice of sorts).

Peter saw her frustrated, helpless look and decided to help her. He put the can back upright and suavely caught the ball that was heading towards her again. She scrunched her face in confusion.

"Give it up, Parker." Flash called.

A smile broke out on his face and the girl looked even more questioning. Oh this plan was brilliant indeed. "One sec." Peter handed the girl his camera and went to the centre of the court, laughing under his breath. Apparently, today was the day to be daring, because some risky words slipped out of his mouth, "Why don't you take it from me?"

Flash laughed as he neared him. _Like Puny Parker could put up a fight_.

Peter goaded him over and over, telling him to take the ball with an unusually smug expression on his face. Each time Eugene went for it, it was snatched away at lightning speed and put in the other hand. The other basketball players laughed at him while the people in the stands observed with curiosity.

Spider grinned at Flash's controlled yet restless expression.

"Alright, how 'bout this?" He covered his eyes with his free hand, even going so far as to turn away, "Alright? How 'bout that?"

Flash still couldn't take it.

Sticky skin was too strong for him.

"Come on, Flash, take it." The web-slinger whispered.

He sighed and backed away, avoiding looking right at Parker.

Peter bounced the ball a few times, practically showing off the fact that the ball wasn't actually stuck to him. Not anymore, at least.

"Alright bring it. Come on, Parker." The bully yelled.

The curly-haired teen accepted the challenge. _He doesn't know what he's getting himself into_ , the gleeful thoughts screamed, all self-preservation gone. Peter sprinted towards the net, basketball held tightly in his arms. He body-checked Flash out of the way and jumped.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion.

Spider flew through the air, arms uncurling in preparation to launch the ball and legs opening then folding to manoeuvre in the air.

He slammed the ball through the hoop with so much force that the backboard shattered into a million pieces, raining down on him when he landed. A few kids screamed. Flash sat up, slack-jawed and baffled.

 _Shit_.

"They're not gonna make me pay for the backboard, are they?" Peter asked briskly as he and a deeply disappointed Dorothy walked down the hall during lunch.

"I don't care about the backboard." She replied curtly. "Was that true?"

"What?" _Stall the inevitable, Peter. Stall the inevitable._

"What I heard in there just now. Did you really humiliate that boy?" They stopped at a four-way hall, one leading outside to the parking lot.

"Yeah I did. But–"

"But _what_?"

"This guy– This guy deserved it." He had never wanted to intentionally inflict harm on somebody before–except maybe HYDRA agents–but now that urge burned in his gut like the flames of guilty frustration.

"Did he now?" Ms. Matthews raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah."

"Is he the lad that gave you that split lip in September?"

Spider nodded a few times and looked down at his shoes, "Yeah."

She _tsked_ and looked deep into his downcast eyes. "Is this about getting even? If so, you must feel very good about yourself right now."

Peter just swayed in his spot, avoiding looking up into her wise green eyes.

Dorothy sighed but said no more to make him feel worse. "You've been suspended for the rest of today and the week. I already called Tony and informed him that you'll be coming home early today. You get to do the honours of telling him what happened. Get whatever you need from your locker, I'll be in the car."

He nodded and ran his fingers through jelled-down hair, making his way down a few halls to his locker. The sixteen year-old began to pull out books.

"I saw what you did." A familiar voice called, smile evident in the tone.

He couldn't help but grin.

"Were you expelled?"

"Suspended for the rest of the week." Spider's tone faltered when he remembered he'd miss school _and_ have to face some disappointed Avengers later.

"Only two days, you'll manage." The clacking of her footsteps stopped beside his locker.

"Shouldn't you be eating lunch?" He changed the subject while shutting his locker with a huff.

"I have to grab some papers from the printer for Mr. Cobbwell."

"Ah." Peter nodded in understanding, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"On the topic of food, do you like branzino?"

Apparently, he forgot to reply, because she spoke again.

"Like, the fish."

"Mhm. No, no. I know." He laughed nervously, "I know."

She shifted so the books she held were balanced on one arm and she could write on a piece of paper with the other. Peter couldn't help but be amused at her slight struggle. "Well, if you want..." The blond scribbled something down and handed it to Parker. "...you can come to this address at 8:00 tonight. My mom's making branzino. So... it's apartment twenty-sixteen. I didn't write that part down. I don't know why I...?" Her brows furrowed and turned away from Peter, pointing her pen to nothingness. She laughed, embarrassed at her forgetfulness.

"I'll remember it." Spider reassured, looking down at the address, then back up at her. Her laugh was endearing. His grip on his backpack strap shifted as he began to realize what was happening.

"Oh, okay. Twenty-sixteen!" She called one last time, disappearing in the growing crowd of students.

Peter smiled and this time, it couldn't be contained, _Did she just... ask me out? I don't think dates happen at houses with family but I'm pretty sure she just asked me out._ He beamed brightly, looking down at the piece of paper in his hands. He was asked out! _Him_. Nerdy Peter Parker. By _the_ Gwen Stacy.

His heart burst with joy.

But as happy as he was, something deep down in the very depths of his heart began to tighten ever-so-slightly– bitterly. So slightly that he didn't notice through his elation.

He skipped merrily to Dorothy, who was waiting in the parking lot.

**[Broken family group chat]**

**_(Spider-boy)_ **

**I think I was just asked on a date!!!!???? At 8:00 tonight!!???? By the Gwen Stacy!?**

**Also got suspended for the rest of the week but that's not important.**

**_(Ah yes, PATRIOTISM)_ **

**That's great, Peter! Make sure to respect her, not that I don't think you will. Why were you suspended? That's very important.**

**_(Jazz hands)_ **

**Spill the tea!!!**

**_(Stonks)_ **

**Congrats, Pete. Feel free to steal my credit card and spoil her.**

**Dorothy mentioned something about a suspension. You better have a good story.**

**_(Dr. Banner)_ **

**Congtatfkytions ont rhea date**

**_(Vent-dweller)_ **

**Ooh yes, spill all the juicy details**

**And good job on the date!**

**Are you okay, Bruce?**

**_(The fitness graham pacer test is a–)_ **

**Did nobody see this coming?**

**_(Vent-dweller)_ **

**Oh shut it, speedster**

**_(Colonal Rhodes)_ **

**Nice.** **Not so nice.**

**_(Dr. Banner)_ **

**Pergecdy fibe**

_**(Me-me Queen-e)** _

**!! good job peter! tell me all about the suspension. i need the tea.**

**_(Mama Spider)_ **

**I'm so happy for you, little Spider. We'll have a talk about your suspension later...**

**Go to sleep, Bruce.**

**_(Caw caw bitch)_ **

**Congrats, spider-boy**

**_(Soldier :))_ **

**I'm happy for you, kid.**

**_(Toaster)_ **

**Congratulations.**

**_(Spider-boy)_ **

**Thank you guys so much!**

**I'll explain the suspension when I get home...?**

Peter beamed at Bucky's warm comment. His opinion overruled everyone else's. Even Mr. Stark's and Shuri's.

Dorothy looked over at his smiling face briefly, wondering what was making him so happy. She shook her head, sporting a small grin of her own, before turning back to the road.

**[Me an' the boys]**

_**(Peter Pan)** _

**Guess what!**

_**(Nedward)** _

**Chicken butt**

_**(Balderdash)** _

**That was a disappointing answer.**

**It could be anything, Peter. You never cease to surprise me.**

_**(Peter Pan)** _

**:D** **!!!**

**Thanks??**

**Gwen just asked me over to her place for dinner. I think that qualifies as a date???**

_**(Balderdash)** _

**Totally does. Good job, man!**

_**(Nedward)** _

**Woah congrats dude**

**That's awesome.**

_**(Peter Pan)** _

**Thanks you guys :)**

**I was also suspended.**

Peter set his phone down as they neared his destination. He gleefully ignored the dings from Ned and Harry just so they'd have to wait in suspense for his elaboration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this was out sooner than I anticipated. Sorry for pulling the PeterxGwen on you like that but it's necessary for the plot. Hope you enjoyed though. I'll start working on the next one right away because I have ideas.
> 
> Wear a mask!
> 
> -Swindle


	34. The Lizard's return

**3rd POV**

Bucky wasn't sure why the news of Peter's date made him feel the way he was currently feeling.

He was happy for the kid, of course. And with all the exclamation points, Peter was happy too. That's _good_. Soldier _wants_ him to be happy. He deserves it the most.

But something didn't sit right.

**_(Soldier :))_ **

**I'm happy for you, kid.**

The text wasn't necessarily a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth, either.

It just wasn't how he truly felt. Bucky hated it.

As soon as he saw the message, even before he was happy for Peter, something buried down in the depths of his heart clenched. An unidentifiable emotion clawed at his lungs, making each breath feel like he wasn't getting _quite_ enough air. His gut sank and he swallowed back a large lump of, well, a foreign feeling. Like the thought of Peter having a girlfriend or a date made his heart ache.

It wasn't an intense feeling. Subtle, yet persistent.

Bucky sighed and pushed it away.

He was happy for Peter.

**I'm happy for you, kid.**

And that's that.

"I'm home..." Peter called, a cringe marring his beautiful features.

Steve stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, jaw stiff, and brows set down. The Disappointed Face™. "Welcome home. Mind explaining why you were suspended?"

Tony, Bucky, and Natasha–the ones who stayed at the Tower during the week to keep Peter company–walked in, not wanting to miss the story.

Spider's cringe grew and he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Preferably not."

Steve's eyebrows raised and his eyes turned even more steely.

That was a look that automatically made Peter obey. He just couldn't help it. That's the way he was programmed.

"Okay, well, this kid Flash–the, uh, the mean guy I told you about–he knocked over this girl's can of paint which totally _ruined_ her nice banner. Then he said something really rude instead of apologizing a-and that made me mad. So I– Well, I picked up the basketball he was using and told him to come– come get it from me i-if he w-wanted it back." Peter's eyes were now downcast as he remembered how much of an idiot he was. "He took the challenge of course since I'm not exactly known for being strong or fast. But he couldn't grab it because I-I used my powers so the ball stuck to my hand. I even taunted him by closing my eyes! I was being no better than him. It doesn't even end there 'cause I may have used my powers to shove him out of the way then do a slam dunk and... b-break the backboard shattering it into a million pieces on the spare gym's floor. So, uh, yeah. Wasn't really– wasn't really thinking." Spider sucked in a big breath when he was done his fast-paced explanation. He refused to look up and see their reactions. He knew he messed up. He doesn't need another lecture.

A wheezing, restrained sort of sound broke the uncomfortable silence. It was followed by another semi-discreet chuckle and a snort from somebody.

Peter looked up to see Natasha smiling, a hand covering her upturned lips. Tony was turned away, doubled over and wheezing through the forearm over his mouth. Bucky was shaking his head, a near-silent chuckle escaping his lips every few seconds. And finally, Steve had a large hand over his face, no smile and rubbing his temples, but obviously not as angry as he could've been.

"That's– I–" Tony could barely form a coherent word, let alone a sentence, through his laughing, "That's so– The suspension, I understand, but" Another wheeze, "oh my that's– he deserved it. Good job, kiddo."

Bucky grinned, "Sounds like it was worth it."

"I'm so proud of you, маленький паук." Natasha patted his shoulder.

Steve sighed, but the smallest twitch of his lips indicated that he also found the ordeal amusing, "As funny as that is, it's also serious. You exposed your powers today and humiliated someone. It doesn't matter if they're a bully or not, you shouldn't do that. I would normally lecture you but I'm sure you've already been lectured by Principal Morita and Ms. Dorothy."

"Will I– Is there a punishment?" Peter asked meekly, but more relaxed thanks to their reactions.

"No Spider-Manning until Saturday." Tony shrugged.

The teen exhaled with relief. That wasn't the worse punishment he could be given.

"Now, about your date." Stark mused, "Do tell."

Bucky's stance went a fracture more rigid and his small smile faltered, but he recovered in the blink of an eye. Peter was too starry-eyed to notice. Natasha thought she saw something, but with how fast the soldier went back to normal, she doubted her own mind. She'd keep an eye on him, just to be sure.

"Uh, well, it's at eight o'clock tonight at her place. Her mom's making branzino. Which I've never had but I know what it is and it sounds good." He beamed cheerfully and changed to talking about his date herself, "Gwen is such a nice person. She always asks how I'm doing and she sticks up to Flash. I'm pretty sure she's the only one he's afraid of 'cause she tutors him in Calc. But she's not mean or anything. She's super smart, too. It's kind of intimidating in the best way possible..." Peter laughed and kept talking, smile never faltering.

After a few minutes of speaking, Parker's stomach growled, interrupting him, "Oh that's right, I didn't get to eat lunch." He sifted through the cupboards and fridge, finding the ingredients for a pasta salad.

He made his food and sat at the table, starting on his homework for the day.

Gwen sat on her bed, reading _Indian Horse_ for her English class. She was too immersed in the book to notice Peter dropping down onto her fire escape landing.

He looked at her for a moment, watching her read the book and wondering what she thought of it. Parker knocked once softly, but it was enough for her head to raise and a smile to break out onto her face.

Gwen opened the window, a little confused. "Hi." Peter smiled back awkwardly. "How'd you get out there?"

"F-fire escape." He lied easily with a shrug. "Your, uh, your doorman's intimidating. I swear he's the lovechild of Kingsley Shacklebolt and The Terminator."

She laughed and stepped aside to let him in. "It's twenty stories."

Peter nodded and shrugged again. "It's alright." He looked around, "This is your room?"

"Yes, this is my room."

"Clothes... and shoes..." Spider whispered, earning another laugh. His eyes widened and he tugged off his backpack. "Hey, uh, I got... these."

Peter pulled out a squished and broken bouquet of flowers from his bag, grimacing at the awful shape they were in.

"Oh, lov– lovely." Gwen sounded as enthusiastic and honest as she could, but she was holding back giggles. "They're so beautiful."

"They _were_ nice. Until I ruined them with climbing up here." He drawled and his his shoved face in the flowers due to embarrassment. Impressions were hard. "I'm sorry. They _smell_ nice though."

"No, no. It's impressive they held together so well." She laughed, short and sweet. It hit Peter like a breath of fresh air.

Spider shook his head while putting the bouquet back in his bag. "I'm gonna– I'm gonna keep these."

"Do you have your suit in there?"

He froze. "My suit?" _Suit. Does she know? Has she figured it out? I swear Ned and I have been quiet enough. There's no proof anyway. She can't know. But she's really smart so–_

"It's for dinner...? Are you gonna be wearing that?" Gwen's eyebrow cocked curiously. "That's–"

The door opened, interrupting them.

"Hey, hon." Captain Stacy began, but stopped when he saw Peter. "You must be Peter."

"Dad, this is Peter." The blond motioned to Parker.

"Hey. Nice to meet you, sir."

They shook hands and Mr. Stacy looked suspicious of him, his eyes cold and watchful.

"Nice to meet you." He replied, eyes never straying from the web-slinger. "Dinner's ready. If you like branzino."

Peter poked at his fish, not having a clue in the world as to how to eat it. It was a whole fish! With the scales still on and everything! He's never had fish like this before.

"You're having trouble there. The head goes on the– Simon, help Gwen's friend with his fish." Mrs. Stacy said when she saw him struggling.

A blond kid–Simon–smiled and nearly laughed as he got up to help Spider.

"I have no idea... how to..." Peter exhaled nervously and put his hands up in surrender, letting the boy help him.

Simon hummed and nodded in understanding. Gwen shot him a look, chuckling under her breath at his helplessness.

Mrs. Stacy turned to her husband. "How was your day?"

"Oh yeah, dad, did you catch that Spider-guy yet?" One of the boys–the one with lots of freckles–asked.

Peter forced his eyes to look at his plate. He was sitting at the table with a man who wanted to arrest him. This was bad. This was very bad.

"No, we didn't catch him yet. But we will. He's an amateur who's assaulting civilians in the dead of night. He's clumsy. He leaves clues– But he's still dangerous."

Parker took a bite of his food and slowly chewed it up, thinking of what to say. He thought that the best way to get information is repeat what he said but in question form. "He's assaulting people?"

One of Gwen's brothers' eyes twinkled and he had a look that said, 'here we go'.

"I'm not sure. I mean," Peter continued, "I saw that video– him and the car thief." He heard Gwen sigh loudly and almost winced at her disappointed noise. "A-and I think most people would say that he was... providing a public service."

The dinner table was silent. Even the the clangs of forks and knives were hushed as the family tried to ignore the discussion between hero and officer. They knew it would heat up and they were dreading what would happen to both men.

"Well, you'd be wrong." Captain Stacy stated simply. He paused for a moment, pondering. "If I wanted the car thief off the street, he'd already be off the street."

"So why wasn't he then?" Peter shot back, controlling his voice to be as calm and collected as possible despite how disrespectful that question was. His head swirled with fear of him being arrested, stress of avoiding the police, the disdain of sitting with somebody who wanted him locked up, and manners that ran to escape him.

Mr. Stacy gave him this bitter look that made the teen want to shrink back. But he held his ground. HYDRA didn't raise a wuss or a quitter. If he wanted answers, he'd get them.

Gwen forced a smile and laugh, distracting them for a moment. She didn't say anything though. How was she supposed to ease out such a tense situation? They were already in too deep.

"Let me _illuminate_ you. You see, the car thief was leading us to the people who run the whole operation. About a six-month long watch on them. This is called strategy. I'm sure you're aware of the term. You've probably heard about it in school." The Captain spoke barely above a whisper, but the words were sharper than knives, digging into Peter's guilt complex. There was clear regret etched on Spider's features. But there was also a certain persistent resilience that made you know he'd keep asking for more no matter how heated this got. Not matter the outcome.

"Y-yeah." Peter nodded, chewing more food.

Gwen and her mother shared a quick, silent conversation with their eyes and soundless words. The younger one seemed very concerned and uncomfortable, but her mother just winked and nodded that it would be okay.

"Obviously he didn't know you had a plan." Spider stated, shoving branzino into his mouth.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this case. Know something that we don't know? Something we could use? Whose side are you on?" Mr. Stacy's voice was laced with impatient poison, opinion stated so _clearly_.

"'M not on anyone's side. I saw a video online–"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"Oh! You saw a video on the internet. Well, that certainly concludes this. Case closed. You've figured it out."

The Stacy family exchanged amused looks.

"No, not at all. I'm just saying that maybe if you watched the video–I could send you the link–it looks like he's _really_ trying to help." Peter fought back hurt tears as he did his best to keep his super strength under control. _Is this really what people think of me? No of course it is. I'm a danger. A menace to society. And ex-fucking-assassin. This is how it goes._

"Don't– No– Stop." The older male stopped him from continuing. "I'm sure, on the internet, he's being made out to be a hero."

"I'm not saying he's a _hero_. I don't think he's a hero." He backtracked insistently.

"Then what are you trying to say?" Captain's hand clenched around his knife to control and direct his rapidly growing frustration.

"I'm saying he looks like he's trying to help. Like he's trying to do something that maybe the police can't." The doe-eyed teen's voice raised but he quieted it back down. Yelling at a cop would cause serious problems.

"Something the police _can't_?" Now _his_ voice was raising, losing its last strand of control.

"I don't know." Peter refused to look at him. His harsh eyes were too much for the war in his head. Now was not the time to slip into Winter Spider mode.

"What do you think we do all day? Do you think we sit around all day eating donuts with our thumbs planted firmly up our asses–?"

"George." Mrs. Stacy scolded, though it did nothing.

"Daddy." Gwen muttered quietly.

"Up your what, dad?" The freckled brother asked faux-innocently.

"I think he stands for what you stand for, sir." Peter told the man. "Protecting innocent people from bad guys."

"I stand for law and order, _son_. _That's_ what I stand for." The bite in his tone made Parker flinch in fear. "I wear a badge. This guy wears a mask. Like– like some kind of outlaw. He's hunting down a bunch of criminals that all look the same like he's got some sort of personal vendetta. But he's not protecting innocent people."

The resounding _clang_ of Gwen's fork against her plate caused Peter's head to snap up, tension loosening ever so slightly.

"Let's get some air, Peter." The blond girl hummed tiredly and stood up to walk towards the door.

Spider exhaled and looked into the Captain's eyes. It felt like he was being watched by a hawk. "Thank you for having me. I'm sorry if I offended you. It was not my intention."

"You're welcome." Mr. Stacy forced out.

"The– Uh, the branzino was great, Mrs. Stacy. Thank you." He dipped his head respectfully as he got up to follow Gwen.

They walked out onto the roof, blowing air out loudly, mostly overwhelmed about what just happened.

"Well that was... something." Gwen laughed and fiddled with the sleeves of her top.

"I'm sorry. I– I thought he was going to arrest me at some point with the way he was looking at me and how infuriated he sounded."

"Nah. I wouldn't have let him."

Peter groaned defeatedly and looked over the edge of the building, calculating the consequences of telling Gwen who he is. _Spider-Man_. Something about the discussion at the kitchen table had him dying to tell her. To reveal that he was the guy her father was trying to lock up. He doesn't know why he wanted to do this but it just felt right. Peter trusted Gwen. A lot. He had his non-ringing Spidey Sense proved it.

With another heavy sigh, he stood up straight again, swiftly turning on his heels to face his date. _Date–_ the word still gave him a happy thrill-y feeling. "I'm gonna tell you something."

Surprised at his sudden words and speed, Gwen stammered with an anxious laugh, "Oh, uh, okay. Yeah."

Peter opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find the right words. No– trying to work up the courage to say the words that sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released. 

"I've been bitten..." He started, a bad attempt to confess his identity.

Gwen took it the wrong way, of course. She smiled brilliantly, almost seductively, trying to catch his downcast eyes. "So have I."

Spider shook his head back and forth a few times, biting his lip and internally chuckling at what she said. A light blush painted his cheeks. "Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I gotta tell you this one thing a-and it's– it's about the vigilante and the car thief crime thing."

"Oh okay."

The moment was ruined. This is not what Gwen was interpreting. She stepped back, disappointed.

"What? No, no, no, no, no, no. Don't– Okay no–" The teen realized he messed up whatever was going on and he waved off what might be on his date's mind. "Forget that. I'm not– I'm not gonna talk about that. I'm gonna talk about me. Okay?"

Gwen cocked her head. "What about you?"

"It's imposs– I– I wish I could just–" _Why is this so hard? I could just blurt it out. It's right there! I don't know what I'm doing anymore. What am I_ _even–? If I never tell her, she's gonna think about this and probably figure it out on her own. This is impossible._ "I can't– It's hard to say."

"Just _say it_." The blond urged softly.

Peter groaned again and leant back over the edge of the building, watching the cars move slowly down below.

"Why? What?" Gwen was very confused. _Why is Peter acting like this? Is he okay? Is he sick?_

Spider looked up at her, the slightest grin on his lips, but he didn't say anything. He shook his head a few times and looked back down.

"Oy. Okay." The female teen gave up and turned to go back inside, waving him off as she went.

Panicking, Peter webbed her skirt and pulled–spun–her close, holding their bodies together so she wouldn't escape again.

Gwen let out a gasp that almost resembled an adrenaline-filled laugh. There was pointed anger, bewilderment, 

"You–?"

"Yeah."

She grabbed the sides of his face and hurriedly closed the distance between them.

Peter was taken by surprise. This was his first kiss. He had no idea what to do. He didn't have any technique or knowledge. He wasn't ready for this _at all_.

It was messy and all over the place– their lips sliding and hands grabbing to hold each other close. But as far as first kisses go, it was good.

Peter broke off, "Are you sure–"

"Shut _up_." Gwen laughed and dragged him back in.

They didn't know how long they had made out, but the sound of Mrs. Stacy's voice and presence broke them apart.

"Gwen? Gwen–" The lady paused awkwardly at the door, a small smile curling on her lips. "Your father wants to see you inside right away."

"Okay. Yeah" She nodded, face beet-red and turned down.

"Sorry if I got you in trouble." Peter muttered just loud enough that his date could hear as she walked away. He was about to say something else–a goodbye most likely–but there was a sudden ringing in his skull. An invisible forced pulled at him, insisting that he needed to head towards some kind of danger that he couldn't see or hear. However the police sirens below were enough indication that there were people to save.

Gwen looked back over her shoulder just to see Peter jump over the edge with no hesitation whatsoever. She laughed and put two fingers to her temple. What has she gotten herself into?

Peter was currently swinging through New York, following the long line of police cars below him. Thankfully, he was prepared for danger tonight and he had put his suit on underneath his clothes.

They arrived at a bridge brimming with traffic, but the vehicles weren't going anywhere. The honking of car horns felt like a punch to Spider's face but he expertly tuned them out, instead looking for something else to focus on.

Through the cacophony of noises all around him, he could make out screams, rapid footsteps, and what sounded almost like fingernails ripping through metal. Peter hissed from the pain that sharp noise caused him, but forced himself to continue.

The vigilante settled on a tower of the bridge that was closer to the source of the noise. From there, he could see a large, ugly, green, lizard-like creature tearing into cars with his long claw-things.

 _Holy crap. That's the Lizard! What's he– How's he– How?_ Peter was puzzled. He was sure he eradicated the Lizard. He'd visited Dr. Connors a few times after he met him and offered him the correct formula. One that would actually grow his right arm without side effects. They tried it on Freddy, the three-legged mouse, and it had worked. (Mind you, that wasn't a human trial). How had he returned to being the Lizard? Did it fail? Did something happen after Peter had stopped working with him? Were there side effects he didn't know about?

Even if it had failed, Parker thought, with the way he slightly altered parts of the formula, that Connors' meds would remain useful in suppressing the beast. Maybe not.

He didn't have time to speculate or ponder, the Lizard was wreaking havoc and he needed to stop him before something major happened.

Lizard was picking up and throwing cars off the bridge so Spider-Man webbed them and hung them from the sides of the structure. The teen prayed his webs wouldn't fail him now.

While he was doing that, he noticed that the Lizard had jumped on one black car and broke the top with his clawed hand. He seemed to be searching around, digging for something. Or someone. The tinted glass denied Peter the ability to see inside the automobile.

"Incoming!" Parker yelled as he swung towards the dark car– which was now also being thrown off. He webbed and hung it from the side of the bridge, cringing when he heard a much-alive body hit the windshield when it stopped falling.

Spider paused and watched what the Lizard was doing. The green beast was hunched over, left hand holding the wrist of his right. His right hand looked like it was transforming. A silky sheen of who-knows-what tore off the claws and fell to the ground, causing him to grunt.

Peter was about to go investigate–and hopefully detain the morphed Dr. Connors–when he heard a man yell above the chaos.

"Somebody help! Help me, my kid is trapped! He's in my car!"

Torn, the curly-haired teen watched the Lizard crawl off, and rushed towards the distressed man's dangling car. He broke the back window quickly and immediately saw the boy– who was panicking and screaming for his dad.

"Hey, hey, hey, buddy, it's okay. It's alright." Peter tried to shush him, hoping he'd stop moving around and panicking so much. It was understandable that he was so scared from all this, but the last thing he needs is a van plummeting towards the water because the trapped kid couldn't sit still.

"Get away." The kid screamed, seemingly scared of him.

 _He must not recognize me,_ Peter thought.

No matter how much he shushed and reassured the boy, he wouldn't stop moving or howling for help. So, in a desperate attempt to save him, Spider tore off his mask. It was just the two of them– no helicopter reporters or cameras to see his identity. Besides, he didn't need to give a name to the kid so he didn't have to worry.

"Hey, look." The sound of his mask tearing off and his request caused the child to turn and look. "I'm just a normal guy." Thankfully, the kid quieted down so he could rescue him now. Peter handed over his mask, "Want to hold on to this?"

The boy caught it and smiled at the cool up-close design.

"What's your name?" No reply. He looked at the bag next to him. "Jack?"

"Yes?" The kid looked up.

"That's a cool name. Why don't we get you out of here?" Peter began to enter the van, internally cringing at the sound of liquid travelling down the sides of the vehicle. "Stay very still."

"Alright."

"I've got you." Spider got close enough to reach Jack. "I'm gonna undo the belt and you're gonna grab on to that seat right in front of you, okay? Sound good?"

"Alright."

"On three, okay? One. Two. Three." He grunted and undid the clasp, allowing Jack to fall against the driver's seat. "See how easy that was? You did a great job, buddy."

A _crash_ of breaking glass had Peter whip his head towards the front of the car. The sound–and sight–of flames followed barely a second later. Fire enveloped the car in seconds, heating them up uncomfortably and making it hard to breathe.

The van broke from the webbing and began to plunge towards the inky water below, but Peter acted quickly. He webbed the bridge and grabbed onto the back of the car. This action practically tore his body in two, but he didn't dare drop the van.

"Jack, climb. Now." Spider-Man ordered through grunts and gasps of pain.

"I can't." The boy cried, terrified.

"Yes. You can." Peter insisted, trying to adjust himself so his limbs wouldn't feel like they were splitting in two. It didn't work. Flaming bits of the car were breaking off and falling into the river, causing Parker to realize just how much time he had. "Put it on. The mask. It's gonna make you stronger. I promise. Jack, trust me."

Jack put it on, coughing a little at the lack of oxygen.

"There you go. That's it. You're doing so good. Now, climb." Spider hissed from pain and felt the car begin to break off from the part he was holding. However, he kept up the brave-face. "Come on, Jack. You've got this."

With heavy breaths and slow motions, Jack began his steady ascent.

"Do me a favour and go a little faster, Jack, alright? Keep going, buddy, you're doing great. That's it, keep on coming. Keep on coming."

The piece broke and the blazing van fell. Jack screamed.

"No!" Peter yelled as he webbed the boy in the chest and brought him close. He shielded the child's gaze from everything around them, not wanting to add to the trauma.

Spider sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the fresh events sink in, before asking Jack to put his mask on his head.

"Jack, oh God. Oh thank God. You're okay. It's okay. It's gonna be okay. My boy. My boy." The father exhaled sharply, taking his boy in his arms when they got back to the bridge. Tears of relief and happiness flowed from his eyes and his he cradled his child. He turned to Peter. "Thank you, Spider-Man, for saving my son."

_"It seems as though the Lizard has returned, making a second sort of big debut on the Manhattan Bridge just earlier this evening. He tore up some cars, throwing others into the river. Luckily, Spider-Man was there to rescue said falling cars. The vigilante saved a young boy by the name of Jack McLullan, from falling to his death in a flaming van._

_Jack's father says,_ 'I don't know what I would've done if he had died. If it weren't for Spider-Man, my whole life would be gone. Jack's all I've got and I can't lose him. My boy can't die.'

_Mr. Ratha, CEO of Oscorp, was also on the bridge. He was unfortunate enough to have a close encounter with the Lizard, but thankfully wasn't harmed..."_

"Nice work, Peter." Steve congratulated in reference to the news.

"Thanks, Steve." Peter replied, yawning, from where he was curled up next to Bucky and Natasha.

The others hummed in agreement, dipping their heads in acknowledgement of his hard work.

When all was serene, sitting there in the darkness with only the lights of the city to illuminate them, Peter decided to inform them of some... other news.

"Oh I had my first kiss tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter out late. Sorry.
> 
> Life has been, well, crazy.
> 
> I had multiple birthdays this year with multiple people thanks to COVID so my weekend plus Friday and Monday were pretty much booked. My social battery is at, like, 3%.
> 
> And Chadwick Boseman died (on my birthday, actually). So that was a lot to take in. It was weird because I was at my grandma's with my parents, grandma, and two friends for birthday dinner. The topic of cancer came up because our friend's daughter has it. We (actually mostly my mom and our female friend) ended up talking about cancer experiences. My mom had the same thing as our friends' daughter. My mom talked about 'war stories' her and her fellow cancer patients would share, as well as lasting effects of it.
> 
> And then, two hours later when I get home, I hear that Chadwick Boseman has died of cancer.
> 
> And it just resonated within me in such a weird way.
> 
> All my life I've heard about stories of when my mom had cancer– around the time she was pregnant with me. I've been told for a long time that almost everyone on my mom's side of the family has had cancer, and I would most likely have it too. Meaning I might also die from it. It's been haunting me for ages. I don't know when I'll get it but the chances are so high that it would take a miracle to not get it. I'm constantly worrying about the day it'll happen and Boseman's death reminded me of this.
> 
> It just felt really shitty on personal levels. I don't care how awful that sounds. But it did.
> 
> So I grieved and took my time on this chapter because I had lots of emotions to sort out.
> 
> Anyway, sorry, hope y'all are okay. I love you guys so much.
> 
> -Swindle


	35. Ch 34-New kid in town

**3rd POV**

The news of Peter and Gwen kissing eventually died down, but not after getting all the embarrassing and juicy details. Mr. Stark seemed very impressed, clapping him on the back and grinning like the cheshire cat. Natasha smiled too–not as wide–and it was more of a motherly 'you're growing up' smile. Steve, in all his old fashion, told Spider to treat her well.

But Bucky... Well, Peter felt Bucky tense for a moment, then relax again. He was confused, but since Soldier looked just as happy as the rest (in his own way) he wasn't too concerned. _Maybe Soldier was surprised? Or needed to shift his position?_ Who knows.

To Peter's dismay, there was quite the uproar when they found out Gwen knew about his alter-ego. He vowed to be extra careful now that two friends–no, one friend and a _girlfriend_ –knew about this.

Since the situation earlier that night was dire, Peter was, thankfully, not disallowed to be Spider-Man for an added period of time. His little rescue on the bridge was technically against his 'no suit' rule, but Mr. Stark let it slide. If it weren't for him, cars would've been dropped into the river and a child's life would've been lost. He did, however, have lab privileges revoked for the remainder of that night and the next day.

The following day wasn't too eventful, aside from his training with Natasha that morning. Peter lounged around on his bed, enjoying the purring Tanya on his lap and the pale rays of the mid-November sun illuminating him. _The Godfather_ was playing on the TV and he was only half invested. The other half of his attention was on his phone– more specifically, his messages.

Gwen was talking to him about his alter ego. It wasn't anything too deep or philosophical, as Peter thought it would be. Seemed like she wasn't getting into the heavy stuff. At least not yet. She did ask how he got his powers, so Spider had to half-lie like with Ned.

**_(Peter)_ **

**I was bitten by a radioactive spider.**

He told her.

Simple half-truth. Better than completely lying.

They talked until the lunch bell rang and she had to go to class.

Many hours later–and we're talking about _many_ –Peter's phone buzzed. He checked the time. 2:48 AM. _Who could be texting me now?_

**[Balderdash - Orphan Gang]**

**_(Balderdash)_ **

**Peter, you awake?**

**_(Peter Pan)_ **

**What's up, Harry?**

**_(Balderdash)_ **

**Oh good you are**

**I'm bored and tired**

**Also I'm outside the tower**

**_(Peter Pan)_ **

**How am I supposed to help with that?**

**And why are you outside the tower? It's cold. I hope you have a coat on!**

Harry had recently discovered he lived at the tower thanks to Ned not being able to whisper one day. Graciously, he swore secrecy. Orphans gotta stick together, right?

**_(Balderdash)_ **

**McDonalds sounds good right about now.**

**Come on, please?**

Peter sighed and a smile crept its way onto his lips. The teen huffed. How could he say no to Harry? The poor guy ran a company while keeping up with school and friends. Between all that and his boring meetings, he needs a break.

Parker really didn't understand how Mr. Stark couldn't approve of his relationship with the Osborn. He knew the two companies were rivals of sorts, but Harry wasn't a bad guy. Mysterious, yes. But not bad.

**_(Peter Pan)_ **

**Sure why not. I'll be out in a minute.**

Peter got up and rummaged through his dresser, finding a long-sleeve grey shirt and a beige wool sweater that would keep him decently warm. He pulled on a dark green-grey coat with a fur hood and a red beanie.

Sadly, he didn't have winter boots to keep out the mid November chill, so he put on his striped yellow rain boots. They looked a little stupid with his more fashionable clothes, but they were moderately warm.

Spider scribbled a note and stuck it to the door just in case Bucky came to his room.

_Ding._

He strode through the near-empty lobby, nodding to the night guards, janitors, and night receptionist.

"Hey. You could've waiting inside, you know?" Peter puffed out a breath of warm air in the freezing night. He watched as the visible breath disappeared into the night air.

"Security." Harry muttered, voice muffled by the thick green scarf around his neck.

"Well as long as you didn't go through the scans and told them you were here for me, you'd be fine."

Osborn hummed. "Thanks for doing this, man."

"You're my friend. Why wouldn't I?"

"Thought you'd be asleep. It's late. Besides, I'm not used to the whole real-friends thing. Boarding school was full of incompetent, arrogant asses who wanted me for my money." The dark brunette spat out bitterly as they sped-walked through the somewhat quiet sidewalks.

Peter laughed shortly. "How come you're awake?"

"I just couldn't sleep today. I've been meaning to do regular teenage things anyway." Harry paused, lips pursing and steps faltering slightly. "This is what regular teenagers do, right?"

Spider chuckled again. "I'm not the right person to ask."

"Right. Orphan gang."

They arrived at a McDonalds within a few minutes. Only one other person sat inside– a middle-aged lady, seemingly drunk, and half-awake.

"Ladies first." Osborn grinned like a shark, opening the door.

Peter rolled his eyes and dipped his head politely as he walked in, a large smile on his face. "Thank you." He peered at the exhausted employee and the menu. The teen was hungry, but not thirsty. "I'll get a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, a Cheeseburger, and a medium fry."

Tired Employee™ rung him up and he paid for his food, standing off to the side to wait for Harry.

"I don't understand how you can fit so much food in that stomach of yours. It's incredible and alarming all at once." Osborn's lips turned down briefly before he took a bite of his Hamburger.

Peter shrugged, shoving fries into his mouth. "I get hungry easily."

They laughed and talked in the near-empty McDonald's, complaining about school and companies. The pair of friends kept ordering more fries and random drinks, probably turning the employee's night even worse. They didn't care. They were having fun and that's what mattered.

The duo were glad to spend time together. They never got to do things together.

By the time they stumbled out of the McDonalds, heads all fuzzy from their sugar high and stomachs aching from food, it was 5:21 AM.

Harry shook his head, trying to wake himself up as he leaned on Peter for support. He was exhausted and he didn't want to call his chauffeur or a taxi to drive him way over to Oscorp just for him to wake in an hour and drive _another_ hour to school.

"Harr– Harry are you– are you okay?" Peter asked, blinking away the stinging pain of his fatigue.

"Yeah I'm, uh, 'm okay. Jus'– Don't mean to intrude but can I crash at yours tonight? I'd get more sleep and it makes the drive to school faster." Harry slurred heavily. "'S'okay if I can't. I know Stark hates me."

"Yeah that's fine. I'll just sneak you into my room. We're almost there." Parker looked ahead at the tower. Not even one more block and they'd be there.

Turns out, Harry couldn't make it that far without passing out and slumping awkwardly onto the cold pavement.

Peter groaned loudly, reluctantly reaching down and hauling his friend up into his arms. _Thank God for super strength._

The next day, Harry woke up to a weird aching on his back. Something was pressing into the small of his back and it was quite uncomfortable. He grunted and sat up blearily.

Apparently the pain was from both of Peter's knees. His friend was sleeping peacefully–save for his twitching finger and shivering body–and the covers had fallen half off the bed. Harry had been lying diagonally so his legs were over the edge and his back was on Peter's knees.

Osborn sighed and looked around at the room he was in. _Peter's room_ , the business man concluded, though he had no clue how he got here. Last thing he remembered was tripping over his feet, stomach and head aching, while leaning on Peter for support. (He's pretty sure his friend was saying something about a tower).

The room was a lot more... lively than his. More home-like and given more TLC. Not that his wasn't–his was immaculate–but you could tell this was closer to the typical room of a teenager. Posters, a few pieces of clothing lying around, a messy desk full of projects, little trinkets here and there, etc... It had character.

Harry looked over at the alarm clock. 6:52 AM. _Shit_ , his eyes widened and moved to get up. But then he remembered. The distance between here and the school was much shorter than the distance between Oscorp and the school. He probably wouldn't have to leave until around 7:50-ish. He had plenty of time.

Then he realized. He wasn't allowed in the tower. He wasn't supposed to be here. Mr. Stark is his rival. And the man has always been suspicious of him.

 _For good reason too_ , Harry thought bitterly, looking over to the still-shivering figure of Peter. A flash of self-hate struck his heart, but he just pushed it away. _Him of all people..._

The conscious teen reached over and gently shook his friend's shoulders. Spider blinked his eyes open, looking around a few times before the orbs settled on Harry.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Osborn chuckled quietly.

"What time is it?"

"Six fifty-four on the dot."

"Why'd you wake me up?" Peter whined, rubbing his eyes and turning away from the sun that peeked through the curtains. "It's so early."

"I'm at the tower, Peter. I'm not supposed to be here." Harry chided softly.

"Oh." He paused and let the thought sink in. " _Oh_."

The curly-haired vigilante got up, eyes glassy and not all there– probably just thinking. He pulled on an Iron Man sweater and turned to his surprise guest.

"...I guess this is a good time for you to meet some of the Avengers?"

Harry laughed again, though this time it was due to nervousness, trying to push said feeling away with a smile.

They trudged down to the common room. Well, Peter trudged. Harry stepped gingerly an attempt to keep this light and cheery despite the clear dread that hung like a noose between the two.

The current Avengers in the common room were Steve, Bucky, and Natasha. No Tony. Like every morning in the tower. Their heads raised at the sound of footsteps down the stairs. Not Peter's. Harry's because he apparently doesn't know how to tread softly. Or maybe he wants his presence known. It was a mystery to Parker.

"Guys, this is my friend Harry Osborn. Harry, these are Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff." Spider introduced, stuttering and awkwardly gesturing between the four of them.

"Nice to meet you, Harry." Steve smiled warmly, though his eyes held a glimmer of unease.

Bucky nodded in his direction, but didn't look at him long.

"Hey." Nat grinned, eyes narrowed skeptically.

"Nice to meet you all." Harry dipped his head respectfully, grinning his signature shark grin.

"Hungry?" Peter turned to his friend. "I can make you something."

"You can cook?"

"Yeah. So what'll it be?" The honey-eyed boy was already walking towards the kitchen, Osborn hurrying to catch up.

"I can make myself toast."

"Yeah no. I've seen you try to make food. You're awful. I don't trust you with our toaster." Peter laughed and got out the bread. Harry frowned but eventually chuckled too. Spider paused and quirked an eyebrow. "Do you just want toast or do you want something _on_ the toast too?"

Harry scoffed at his quip as he sat down. "Butter and jam is good. Strawberry jam if you have any."

"No strawberry jam here. Sorry. We have apricot, blueberry, blackberry, and mango-raspberry."

"Oh those all sound delicious." He groaned in appreciation. "Blackberry jam then."

Peter nodded and got to work, toasting the bread while making his own breakfast– a simple omelette with ham and onion. He navigated effortlessly through the kitchen, always doing something to prepare the food. Not a second was wasted standing around.

"You need your books, don't you?" Peter asked between bites of his breakfast.

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly swallowed up his morsel of food. "Oh ho ho _no_. Yeah I do. It's already seven-twenty though. I don't have time to drive to Oscorp and back."

"Who said anything about driving?"

If any of you are curious... that morning Harry went to school on a helicopter.

Once the Osborn had left, the group headed to the Compound for the rest of the week.

Late afternoon, after many games of Mario Kart, Peter sat bundled up on the couch, nestled into to Tony's side. He would've been beside Bucky, but the man seemed on edge so Spider suspected he was going through one of his episodes again. The teen gave him space. Besides, he was comfortable next to Tony, willfully letting himself be drowned by his stark scent of car oil, cologne, black coffee, and metal. 

They–as in almost the entire team–were watching _The Hunger Games_. Sam was complaining loudly every three minutes yet he never got up and left so Natasha shoved a pillow in his face.

 _Ding_.

_Ding._

_Ding._

**[Nedward]**

**_(Nedward)_ **

**OH MY GOD OKAY**

**DUDE HAVE YOU SEEN YOUR THEME SONG VIDEO??????!!!!**

**IT'S SO GOODDSJANDJFUENWUI.**

**_(Peter-Man)_ **

**What do you mean? Theme song video????**

**_(Nedward)_ **

**ohmygodohmygod search up 'Spider-Man Theme (Junkie XL)'. it's by michael buble. michael buble made you a fricking theme songnggg. its even 2 on trending!!!!!!!**

**_(Peter-Man)_ **

**Uh okay hold on.**

Peter was in a state of intense disbelief. He has a theme song? _Michael Bublé_ made him a theme song? _That's– no. That can't be._ _Right?_ _There's no way in hell–_ "Hey, Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked down, eyes tearing away from the scream in front of them. "Hm, what can I do for you, kiddo?"

"Uh, can we stop the movie for a moment and switch over to YouTube? I need to look something up real quick." Spider pursed his lips, still in doubt, and pulled his blanket tighter around him.

Complaints and protests were heard, the majority from Sam and Pietro, but they were more on the teasing side.

"Sure. What do you need to look up?" Stark asked–once the noise died down–as he changed from Netflix to YouTube.

"...I may or may not have a theme song...?" Peter muttered, tone that of a question rather than statement.

There was a splutter from Clint and a few sounds of doubt. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Ned just texted me saying Michael Bublé–yes the hot holiday song guy–made me a theme song but I really don't know whether to believe him or not, even though there's no reason I shouldn't. It's– Uh– It's even trending, apparently." Peter spilled out.

Tony squinted a little, then smiled and clicked on the 'trending' icon. There at number two was ' _Spider-Man Theme (Junkie XL)_ '. The billionaire hit play and let the music start.

It began with what sounded like drums and police sirens, then added possibly a saxophone. (They couldn't tell). The intro gave them a 1940s black and white mystery murder kind of vibe.

_'Spider-Man, Spider-Man_

_does whatever a spider can._

_Spins a web_

_any size._

_Catches thieves_

_just like flies._

_Look out!_

_Here comes the Spider-Man.'_

_So far, so good_ , Peter thought with glee. Michael was–not to toot his own horn–correct and the song was quite catchy.

_'Is he strong?_

_Listen bud,_

_he's got radioactive blood._

_Can he swing_

_from a thread?_

_Take a look_

_overhead._

_Hey there!_

_There goes the Spider-Man'_

Ah, so he must've listened to the few interviews Spider-Man did and used that information to make this song because it's entirely accurate. So far, at least.

_'In the chill of the night,_

_at the scene of a crime,_

_like a streak of light,_

_he arrives just in time.'_

_A bit more debatable but I'll take it_ , Spider mused.

_'Spider-Man, Spider-Man._

_Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man._

_Wealth and fame,_

_he's ignored._

_Action is_

_his reward._

_Look out!_

_Here comes the Spider-Man'_

Well, Bublé's been paying attention. Peter recalls telling a reporter that he doesn't do this for money–he doesn't even get paid–but because he loves the feeling of saving people. The action is indeed his reward.

There was a little instrumental bit and then the lyrics came back.

The rest of the song was the other segments but repeated in different orders and the music was much more intense.

"Well, well, well, looks like Peter really does have a theme song." Clint mused, still stunned.

"Spider-Man." Parker corrected. "...I really do have a theme song!" He cheered and threw his hands up.

"Same difference."

"You've been doing this superhero gig for what? Four months? And suddenly you have a theme song? Man, we've been at this for years and we don't have a theme song yet." Sam scoffed, but the grin on his face showed that he was just being funny. Natasha slapped his elbow lightly.

"Это хорошая музыкальная тема, паучонок. Я рад за тебя." The redhead smiled warmly. **(Translation: It's a good theme song, little spider. I'm happy for you).**

A few other congratulations and good-natured remarks of 'this isn't fair' passed over the group. Peter sat awkwardly, face flushed from all the attention and praise. He made a mental note to add the song to his library and put it as his ringtone.

The weekend passed quickly and it was soon back to the exhausting grind of high school.

"Peter! You're back." Ned called down the hall, waving to him as he approached. Gwen and Harry looked up at him, smiling, while MJ just nodded in his direction before going back to her book.

"Hey, guys." The curly-haired teen chirped. "Gwen." He pecked her forehead and Harry made a little gagging sound. Peter pointedly ignored it, but still smiled at his reaction.

"How was the suspension? Did you do anything cool? Had more time for your internship?" Ned asked as they walked to their first class of the day, Harry and MJ going their separate ways.

Spider started chattering animatedly. "... Spider-Man was off-limits until Saturday and my lab privileges were revoked. Which sucked." Leeds' eyes went wide at the mention of his alter-ego considering Gwen was _right there_. Peter laughed. "Gwen knows, Ned."

Ned peered at Gwen, who smiled and nodded reassuringly, then back at Peter, who looked a little like he regretted something. "Oh. Okay."

Gwen and Peter sat on the bleachers during lunch. It was cold and dry, but at least it wasn't wet. It hadn't snowed yet that year but it had rained a lot.

They were only outside because nobody was in the bleachers with them. It served as a quiet spot to talk about private things. Secrets, mostly.

"Does it scare you?" Gwen asked but continued. "What you can do?"

Peter thought for a moment. Does it scare him? Well, he's had the powers for as long as he can remember. His first memory is actually when HYDRA experimented on him to give him the powers. He's always just dealt with them. Always used them. They're not new or daunting.

He let an easy smile spread onto his lips. "No. No, it doesn't."

"What did..." She hesitated and bit her lip, debating whether she should ask the next question or not. "What did the thing– _Dr. Connors_ on the bridge look like?"

"Real big. Too big to be remotely human. He, uh, he had scales. Was green. Sharp claws and teeth." Peter chuckled out of fear of the memory.

"You gotta lay low."

"Can't do that."

"You've got to. Why– why not?"

"Because last night, those people on the bridge– The people would've died because of– 'cause of Dr. Connors." Spider's hands fidgeted and he looked down between the cracks in the metal. "I feel like– like I could be helping him instead, you know? I was the one who created this mess, I need to fix it. I need to help Dr. Connors get back to normal. I need– I need to eradicate this formula or at least neutralize it."

"That's not your job." The blond shook her head, searching his eyes.

"Y-yeah it is. I did this, Gwen. If I can create this, I can destroy it too. I can't just ignore this and watch it get out of control."

"Okay." She whispered softly, sensing his distress. "Okay. But promise me you'll be safe?"

He nodded. "I promise."

Peter thought that was the perfect time to kiss her, so he did.

We'll all quietly ignore the fact that he caught a football without looking and launched it back towards the goal, bending the metal and shocking many students.

Spider-Man only encountered the Lizard one time that week. It was quick. The Lizard was running through some traffic, pushing cars out of the way and roaring at pedestrians. There didn't seem to be any obvious goal in this and he wasn't exactly hurting anyone, but Peter decided that he still had to be stopped.

So, he swung in there, gave him a quick quip about how he had to stop doing all this, kicked his butt, and followed the green experiment as he retreated.

The two slunk through back alleys, sketchy neighbourhoods, and deserted plazas. The Lizard was quick. Too quick. When Spider-Man thought he had cornered him in a dead-end alleyway, he suddenly found himself alone. No transformed Connors to be found. Just the faint sound of dripping water and the crackle of a radio. Neither sounds intrigued the vigilante. It had rained earlier that day–that explained the water–and the radio could just be in a dumpster or in one of the apartments beside him.

Peter sighed and let his body slump against the brick wall to his left. There was something off about the encounter. Something that didn't add up. The Lizard wasn't harming anyone. Sure he was making lots of noise and terrorizing people. But not a single person was injured. Which was odd. Back at the bridge, he threw off cars, and ripped other ones. There was an intention to all of that. He seemed to be searching for something. Or someone. Yet now? Nothing.

Spider groaned in frustration and decided to drop it for now. There are other people to save.

That continued the following week too. Right into the later days of November.

A few days of the week, Spider-Man would find himself chasing the Lizard through run-down parts of Manhattan and Queens after finding the scaly guy terrorizing people. Not harming. Just terrorizing.

However, he'd always escape. Peter would round a corner and boom, nobody was there. No signs of a big, green, reptilian experiment. But there was one thing that he found each every time.

The sounds of a crackling radio and dripping water.

Even when it hadn't rained. Even when there were no pipes around. Even when they were behind a grocery store or a bowling alley. Even when there was no trash in sight. He'd hear those noises yet not find their sources.

The sole thing he could find was that they were coming from beneath him. Somewhere in the ground. That information helped, but not enough.

Today Peter sat on an old staircase, contemplating.

The Lizard never harmed people when he 'ran rampant'. He just roared loudly and made as much noise as possible. _How come? Is there a purpose to it all? Is there something he's looking to get out of it? Why isn't he harming people like any villain would?_

The teen spent a long six minutes thinking everything over. Every action, every roar, every single escape route, every taunt, and every building they passed.

Was the Lizard trying to distract him? No. Nothing happened when he followed him. No big scandal or crime. At least nothing the news reported. (The again, if the Lizard was involved, it would probably end up on the news, no matter how small).

Was he leading him somewhere? Maybe. It was always a dead end or someplace quiet though. Not a single thing of interest to Peter. Well, except for the radio and the water.

Spider sighed and swung off to find more crime. His last thought seemed most plausible but even so, he's not sure what he's supposed to be finding.

The next day was Friday, November 25th.

Peter was unluckily swamped with homework and he wanted nothing more than to just take a five-hour nap.

The winter chill has really gotten to him and he finds himself shivering violently no matter how many layers he has on or where he is. Gwen has been fussing over him lately, which is stupidly endearing, trying to pile more clothes onto his lithe body.

Right now, Spider was walking away from a run-in with Flash, holding his shoulder in pain from being slammed against a locker. He could feel his girlfriend giving him a pitying, frustrated look and he got angry.

"Don't look at me like that." The teen snapped quickly.

Gwen was unfazed, pursing her lips in thought. "You should be fighting back, Peter. At least tell the principal or an adult. Let them handle this."

He sighed, pushing the doors open and shuddering from the sudden icy wind. "Sorry for snapping at you. You know why I can't do that. 'Sides, Flash's parents fund the school. No way Mr. Morita wants to lose that."

The blond huffed and rolled her eyes. She decided to change the subject. "Same time tonight?"

"Six o'clock." He grinned and–after spotting Happy waiting for him–kissed her quickly. "See you later."

Peter walked briskly to the Audi, opening the door and hurrying in, grateful to escape the freezing outdoors.

"Are winters in New York always this cold?" He grumbled.

Happy grunted something that sounded an awful lot like 'yeah' and drove off.

Spider was just finishing up his Calculus work when they pulled into the Compound. He thanked Happy and sped to the elevator.

_Ding._

"I'm back." The brunette called, not particularly loud.

He froze, mid-taking off his backpack. 

There were a few new things to take in. A new heartbeat, a new set of lungs taking in air, a new pair of feet shuffling slightly, a new... dewy smell, and most importantly, a new voice. It was low and had a slight southern drawl to it. Peter figured it belonged to a young man, early twenties.

As the teen hurriedly took off his shoes and heavy winter gear, he could make out the mysterious man and Mr. Stark talking about engineering. He also identified Fury, Coulson, Clint, Steve, Wanda, and Rhodey. Parker was puzzled by the fact that SHIELD people were here and it fuelled his curiosity.

Racing around the corner, Peter came face-to-face with a young man who looked no older than him. He was tall. Taller than Spider (though that's nothing to brag about). Probably around 5'11"-6'0". His hair was a bit unkept and wavy, partly obscuring his eyes. It was a mix between golden brown and blond. The man's skin was a warm olive tone and a few sparse freckles dotted his face. His eyes were a murky olympic blue flecked with bright baby blue and circled with a devastatingly dark ring of navy.

He wore a simple yellow and white football jacket along with ripped blue jeans and well-worn grey sneakers that were minutes away from falling apart.

"Bambi, you're home." Tony grinned broadly. He shoved the confused stranger forward lightly, clapping his hands. "Introductions are in place."

The doe-eyed did a quick once-over of the dashing man in front of him, analyzing anything he could get.

First off, his heart rate quickened. Nervousness. Possibly unsure. Third note, how the hell was his voice so deep? He appeared harmless and easy-going but his low voice made you think twice about crossing him because it was so off-putting. Though it was kinda hot, Peter supposed. Last striking note was that he looked at ease– hands loosely in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, arms open and inviting, big beam on his face like he wanted nothing more than to talk to you. All body language screamed that he was chill and approachable– perfectly content. But Peter saw through that. He saw the tenseness of his arms, the clench of his jaw, the slow and impossibly quiet tapping of his foot, the way he forced himself to relax. More importantly, he saw his smile falter, tighten, if you will, and his eyes flash quickly around him before returning to Peter. He was unsure. Uncomfortable, maybe.

"Harley Keener-Stark." The young man drawled, smiling just as widely as the man behind him. He took his hand out of his jean pocket and held it out for Peter to shake.

"Peter P-Parker." He stuttered and shook his hand, not looking away from his inviting gaze. _Keener-Stark? What does that mean? Does Mr. Stark have a child from his playboy days? Not that that's a bad thing. I wonder..._

"What's the matter, ain't you sure?" The young man mused.

"Something like that." Spider murmured almost inaudibly. Harley didn't catch it so he said something else. "Sorry. I'm not good with new people most of the time."

Keener nodded, his mouth morphing into a sly, deceiving grin and his eyes turning much more curious and searching. "Well, Peter Parker, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy hello again entities! Haha life has been stressful. I start school again on Thursday and I finally have my timetable so I'm not dying of anxiety anymore. Sorry this chapter is so late (I say that every time so it's probably irrelevant at this point). Uh I don't have much to say so goodnight, I guess?? Or good morning or day or afternoon.
> 
> Anyway, see ya entities!
> 
> ~Swindle


	36. Ch 35-Sriracha Sauce

**3rd POV**

"What?" The younger mysterious voice asked for the millionth time, annoyed that the static interfered with their little chat.

"The plan, you idiot!" A rough voice roared impatiently. "How much farther along are you?"

"I've befriended him." He answered coolly, making sure his hate towards the other man was not shown. "He's comfortable in my presence and I don't see any signs of mistrust or unease. I've even been to the Tower, though it wasn't exactly by direct invitation." The young man chuckled at the memory.

"Good. We will be continuing to the next part of the plan."

"I." The younger corrected, hiding his growing grin by looking down.

"What?" They faltered, confused.

" _I_ will be continuing. You said 'we' but I don't see _you_ doing much of the work."

The person on the monitor didn't know how to respond. His mouth opened, then closed. You could almost see an embarrassed blush on his face if it weren't so dark. Growing frustrated, he yelled out, "You brat! _I'm_ the one who made the plan. _I'm_ the one who offered to help you. _I'm_ the one who will be finishing this."

With a sigh, the recipient to the anger pushed the older's patience, "You may have made the plan and the offer, but without me, you'd have nothing. No leads, no options, no Spider. You'd have lost your precious weapon forever."

Older™ clenched his jaw and ended their meeting through gritted teeth.

When Harley had his back turned and attention on Fury, Peter dragged Stark around the corner.

"Explain!?" The teen whisper-yelled, gesturing wildly to the general sound of the conversing voices a few meters away.

A half-smirk crept its way onto Tony's face. "Steve and I have decided to adopt."

"You mean you barely discussed it with Steve and then semi-went behind his back to adopt." Peter crossed his arms and gave him a disappointed parent look. If it weren't for their obvious age gap, one might think Tony was the kid and Peter, the father.

"Okay yeah, but when Harley came home he didn't look surprised so he's fine with it."

Spider closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten like how Dr. Banner advised. He exhaled quickly and met Tony's twinkling eyes. "So he's your son now?"

"Legally, yes."

"And he'll be staying here?"

"Well, yeah. This is his home now."

"How old is he?"

"Ask him yourself." Stark peered around the corner to Harley, who seemed to be searching for him, but was then distracted by a disordered Steve. (Poor kid looked intimidated by him).

Parker just sighed again and turned to walk back to the kitchen, but was stopped.

"Wait." The billionaire motioned for the two to walk a few meters further away so it was a bit more private. "You should tell him about Spider-Man. Your choice, but since he'll be living here, I figured it'd be difficult to hide your alter-ego from him."

"Can I even trust him?"

"Yup." He replied without a second thought.

Peter gave him a withering, skeptical look that reminded him of Natasha.

"Let him figure it out." He waved his hand vaguely. "He's smart. It won't be too hard. Maybe use your powers in front of him or talk about yourself in the context of Spidey. I don't think he's too oblivious to things like that."

"Alright deal, but you better be telling the truth, Mr. Stark."

Tony flashed a smile and walked back to the kitchen. Peter groaned and followed a few seconds later.

"...See ya." Harley called as the three SHIELD people left. He turned at the sound of Stark's shoes clacking towards him. "Where'd you go?"

"Just talking to Bambi here."

Peter scrunched his face at the use of the nickname in front of a stranger. Keener-Stark looked like he was holding back a chuckle.

"Why don't you go help Harley unpack?" Tony slapped his back, the tone of his voice indicating that this was not up for debate. "You both can come to the lab after."

Harley smiled and motioned for Spider to follow as he walked to his room.

Peter trod after him, shoulders tense and Spidey Sense buzzing. Not because he was a threat, but because over time, thanks to HYDRA, his instincts–which is partially how the Sense works–have always told him not to trust a stranger. So he brushed the buzzing off, ignoring it easily, and walking into the empty room next to Wanda's.

A backpack and moderately large duffle bag sat by the plain beige-brown queen bed. There was also what looked like a guitar case with a few stickers tucked in the far corner. One empty shelf, a desk, a TV/stand, and a desolate closet were the only other things in the room. Peter thought back on when he first saw his room in the tower. It made him nostalgically sick.

"The rooms here are so big." Harley commented as he went to inspect the closet. Peter jumped at the lowness of his voice. He still wasn't used to such a deep voice on someone who looked so young. "Who really needs all this space?"

"Yeah. You know Mr. Stark, always going above and beyond." The younger turned to the luggage. "Is this everything?"

There was a hitch in his breathing, a hesitation, and then he spoke in an almost shameful, muted tone. "Yeah. I don't have much."

Peter nodded neutrally. "Should we put the clothes away first?"

"Sure."

They got to work, albeit with some awkward tension, and were done in a matter of minutes. Harley had even less clothes than he did when he started out here.

"How old are you?" Spider's words tumbled out and he fumblingly placed an ancient-looking notebook in the 'notebook drawer' of the desk. (He didn't take Harley for an organized guy, but hey, looks can be deceiving).

"Seventeen. I'm a senior. You?"

"Sixteen and a Junior. Where will you be going to school?"

"Old man said Midtown was good. Auditioned and got in. So I guess Midtown."

Peter froze, but forced his expression to relax. He refused to mention that he himself went to Midtown, mostly because he didn't trust the guy yet, so he evaded it with a similar topic. "So you like science?"

"Yeah. I'm really into engineering. Suck at all that biology and chemistry stuff. But engineering is a strong suit for me. I worked at an auto shop at one point and it was the best job I've ever had by far." A wistful expression and tension-relieving laugh overcame Harley as he remembered how fun that part of his life was. _Maybe I can find a job like that here in New York_.

Peter chuckled and shook his head. "I'm the opposite, dude. Chemistry and biology are my favourites. I'm not very good at car engineering but I help Mr. Stark here and there when I can. I can build stuff though. I'm okay at that. I'm sure now that you're here, Mr. Stark'll have an actually helpful person to repair cars with." A pang of jealousy struck his gut and he furrowed his brow, confused. _Why am I jealous?_

"We balance each other out." Keener-Stark commented softly and put the last thing in its place– a book titled _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_.

"'Sherlock Holmes'." Peter echoed curiously when the book was on the sparsely-decorated shelf.

"I love me a good mystery. You could say I'm a little obsessed."

"Is guitar another?" Spider murmured as he carefully pulled the jazzed-up guitar case away from the corner. His eyes roamed over the stickers of all size. Some were Sherlock, others just a random assortment of things. Like a grapefruit and a raven.

"Pardon?" Harley turned to the shuffling noise the case was making.

"Guitar. When I shook your hand, I noticed you have callouses on the pads of your fingers. Most of all, your thumb. I couldn't figure out why until I saw this case in the corner."

"Ah, yeah. I've been playing for five-ish years now. But I got that guitar just a year ago." At Peter's hesitation with the hidden instrument, he spoke again. "You can open the case."

Spider hummed with gratitude and unclasped the container, flipping open the top to find a black and orange-brown electric guitar. He breathed out in awe at its pristine condition and generally cool look. "Where'd you get this?"

"At a shop I used to work at. It's an old Eko Cobra 600." Harley remembered finding that thing in the donation bin. Terrible condition but still barely fixable. His boss didn't see how he could repair it so Harley got it for free. He spent long hours holed up in his room restoring the old beauty. Those hours paid off and now this guitar is one of his prized possessions.

When they had finished up, they headed to the lab, back into their semi-awkward lapse of silence.

FRIDAY let them in after a few scans and they were greeted by Dum-E chirping enthusiastically. The band _Scorpions_ was blasting on full volume, but FRIDAY turned it down like she always did when Peter came in.

Stark's head poked up from underneath a table and behind a few slabs of thick glass. His goggles were shoved lop-sided on his forehead and a hologram was hovering above his hand. "Oh hey, you two. I'm just working on improving _Code Green_. Feel free to join the party."

Dum-E chirped again and motioned to Tony insistently– like he was encouraging them to go over.

Peter laughed and patted the friendly machine's head. "I can't today, sorry. I've got loads of homework."

Iron Man's lips quirked into a disappointed frown. It was gone in a moment. "Harley?"

"Sure." The young man waltzed over, leaving Peter behind, along with a feeling of loneliness. "What exactly are we doing?"

Tony explained that they needed a stronger and thick enough glass that could hold the Hulk in case Bruce couldn't control his anger one day. They contemplated smelting small amounts of vibranium into it (thank god vibranium is so versatile).

Peter sighed and gazed longingly at the two, who were laughing about some pun Mr. Stark made about safety goggles. Another pang of jealousy struck him but he brushed it aside as a childish feeling. The curly-haired vigilante retrieved his backpack and made his way up to the lab again, sinking into one of the couches to do his work.

Half of a very boring and irritated hour of work and listening to the two others get along fabulously, Peter groaned loudly. He made his way to the door, doing his best to not stomp over there and show his unreasonable anger. Unfinished Spanish work was clutched in his unbreakable grip and an abused backpack was slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

"Where're ya going?" Harley called as the door _fwooshed_ open.

Peter opened his mouth to say something but was cut off.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Tony asked, snickering, when he saw Spider's tense and fidgety state.

 _Now he notices_. Peter cursed bitterly. _Why am I so mad? What's_ wrong _with me?_ He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. A smile that looked more like a grimace planted itself on his face. "I need a quieter place to work."

With that, he turned and strode out, refusing to look back at the happy pair.

He had to figure out why he felt this way.

But for now, homework.

Peter inspected the common room. Bucky was on the couch reading. Pietro was waiting for his pop-tart to finish toasting. Natasha was at the piano playing some old Russian tune. And nobody else was around.

It was a calm environment–perfect for working–so Spider plopped himself next to Bucky and snuggled against him. He basked in his bittersweet smell and excess body heat.

Bucky froze, body tense and jaw clenched.

"Soldier, what's wrong?" He frowned. Barnes had been doing this a lot lately– tensing whenever Peter did things like this, even though they were absolutely normal for the two.

"Nothing." The older muttered and relaxed.

Peter couldn't help but notice an accelerated heart rate, but he didn't comment on it.

_Ding._

Parker paused his stirring and listened for whoever was in the elevator. When he heard a breath of awe, he knew it was who he was expecting.

" _Bambi, Miss Stacy has arrived._ " FRIDAY's voice chimed.

Gwen, who was still out of sight, made an audible gasp.

"Thank you, FRIDAY." He stifled his laughter and called out. "We're just around the corner, Gwen!"

He heard her clacking footsteps hesitantly turn the non-glass corner. She looked confused and in shock, but she brightened when her eyes fell upon her boyfriend.

"Hi." She greeted, then noticed the other people in the room. The blond waved and smiled and huge smile at the others. "Hi, I'm Gwen Stacy."

"Steve Rogers. It's nice to meet you." Steve, who was previously placing trivets on the table, shook her hand, offering a dazzling smile. Peter almost laughed at how tiny her hands looked compared to his.

Bucky nodded in her direction and made brief eye contact, like always. "Bucky Barnes."

Gwen didn't mind his curt greeting. The world knew about Bucky Barnes and the shit he's been through. She just smiled kindly at him and turned her head when a new voice rung out.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff!" The witch said cheerily (she was happy there was another girl her age in the Compound).

Stacy laughed at her enthusiasm. "It's very nice to meet you." She turned her attention back to Peter, who was turning the burner off.

"You came just in time. Dinner's about ready."

"It smells delicious. What is it?"

"Uh, Fettuccine Alfredo and some Chicken Kebabs because we had leftover chicken but _some of us_ don't like it in our pasta." He gave Wanda and the newly-arrived-and-confused-Sam a look.

Gwen giggled. "Would you like any help with that?"

"Nope. You're my guest so you should relax."

"Whoever made that rule was just trying to get a favour out of someone." She frowned but broke out in laughter. Spider rolled his eyes at her comment but couldn't help from snorting.

More people–and one AI–trickled in as the table was being set. Gwen got to meet Tony, Natasha, Pietro, Vision, Bruce (momentarily, he just took food and went back to his lab), Sam, Rhodey, and Harley.

"Harley K– Keener. Nice to meet you too." Keener-Stark drawled welcomingly.

"Peter's never mentioned you." Gwen said, without a hint of scrutiny or malice. Her eyes narrowed and she did a small step back at the startling deepness of his voice. The female teen looked between the two boys.

"Well he's only known me for a few hours." Harley grinned charmingly. He looked more at ease now.

"Oh." She laughed lightly and tilted her head in curiosity. She looked at Peter, her eyes holding questions easily answered.

"It's not my place to share." He shrugged and set one of two giant pots of Fettuccine Alfredo on the table.

"Not entirely mine either. Let's just say I'll be 'round for a while." Harley explained vaguely.

Gwen gave him an understanding look and commented, "There are lots of secrets around here, I've learned."

A few chuckles passed over the room and the blond beamed at their joking approval, giggling as well.

Everything was ready to be eaten but there was no sign of Clint.

"Where'd Katniss get off to? Barely seen him all day." Tony asked, rubbing his sore neck.

Peter made a little _v_ between his brows as he concentrated on the noises around him. Sifting through them all, he managed to get to the quietest one– the one he was looking for. It was Clint, two floors down, travelling upwards through the vents. The archer had a funny knack for arriving right when food was ready. "He'll be here in a minute." He said bluntly.

Harley looked confused. "How d'you know?"

"Give him a moment. He's below us right now." Peter ignored his question and the confused looks from the other two teens in the room– the Avengers were used to this. After a few seconds they heard the sound of someone crawling through the vents above them. "Steve, you shouldn't stand there."

Steve hurried out of the way and a split-second later, Clint burst through, landing down on the ground in a loud, extravagant motion.

"Drama King." Peter muttered, sitting down at the table with everyone. "On time, as usual."

"Hey! You're one to talk. Always whining about," Clint made his voice go higher, "'It's too coldddd. Lemme get more blanketssss'."

The teen frowned and debated on sticking his tongue out, but settled on a less childish approach. "I can't thermoregulate!"

"Yeah, yeah." The archer snickered and sat down with the rest of them.

"I'm sorry but _what just happened_?" Harley questioned loudly, wide eyes travelling across the group. "You heard him coming? You don't _thermoregulate_?"

Peter did some awkward finger guns. "Right-o."

"But you're– You're a person. People produce body heat."

"Yes, I'm aware. That's second-grader info. I think. I don't know." He trailed off awkwardly. "But yes."

Harley gave Tony a look. "Should I ask, or...?"

Stark shrugged his shoulders and directed the conversation to the food. "Let's eat. I'm starved."

Gwen, who was sat beside Peter, leaned in to whisper, "Does he know?"

"No." He whispered back and accepted the food Wanda–who was on the other side of him, surprisingly–handed him.

Natasha stood up, excusing herself, and went to look through kitchen cabinets. After a few seconds, Spider heard a sharp curse in Russian elicit from her lips. He tried and failed to hide his laugh behind his glass of water.

"What's so funny?" Gwen wondered, also noticing how Mr. Barnes' lips twitched upwards.

Harley tilted his head in their direction too, wanting to get in on the joke.

Peter put his finger up in an amused 'hold on' motion. He jerked his chin up, peering over Clint–who sat across from him–so he could see Natasha still searching. As innocently as possible, he asked, "Что ты ищешь, мама-паук?" **(T: What are you looking for, mama spider?)**

Harley and Gwen's heads turned at an inhuman speed, giving him wide-eyed looks. Peter ignored them in favour of grinning at the frustrated redhead a few meters away. The Avengers kept their noses out of it because they knew that one does not make Natasha angry. And Natasha was angry. Bucky, however, looked rather entertained at whatever they were starting to talk about.

Romanoff turned around and shot him a beyond-withering glare. She kept composure and calmly replied with, "Ты точно знаешь, что я ищу, паучок." **(T: You know exactly what I'm looking for, baby spider).**

He gasped, hand going to his heart in mock-offense, but then returned to a neutral state. "Я тебе не помогу." Peter blinked slowly. **(T: I won't help you).**

"Итак, вы признаете, что спрятали это?" **(T: So, you admit you hid it?)**

Spider huffed and set down his fork. "По уважительной причине." **(T: For a good reason).** "Excuse me." He smiled softly and got up, walking to the other spider of their dysfunctional family.

"Тогда дай мне это послушать." Her voice turned a little growly at each word. **(T: Then let me hear it).**

Peter crossed his arms and jutted his chin out stubbornly, standing his ground. "Соус Срирача не относится к Fettuccine Alfredo." **(T: Sriracha sauce doesn't belong on Fettuccine Alfredo).**

Bucky laughed and the table was even more confused. The Soldier leaned back in his seat and set his eyes on the younger spider. "Знаешь, Паук, может, если бы ты попробовал, тебе бы понравилось." **(T: You know, Spider, maybe if you tried it, you'd like it).**

"Not you, too!" The teen groaned, meeting Natasha's sharp, enforcing gaze. "Fine, I'll get you your sauce that _doesn't belong_ on Fettuccine Alfredo."

"Спасибо." She bowed. **(T: Thank you).**

"H-How do you know Russian?" Gwen intervened quietly.

"Learned it when I was a kid. Natasha and Bucky help me keep it up." Spider replied.

Peter sighed and climbed up onto the counter with ease– a little too much ease, Harley noticed, perplexed. He reached way back into the cupboard the held all the cereals and breads, and pulled out a big bottle of Sriracha sauce. The teen tossed the spicy condiment into Romanoff's hands and jumped down.

"I still don't know how you can eat Fettuccine Alfredo, of all things, with Sriracha sauce. Chicken kebobs, I get. But _Fettuccine Alfredo?_ " The brunette sat back down, throwing a quick apology to the group, and resumed eating.

"Mind explaining what that was about?" Rhodey asked, earning mutters of agreements. "All I got was Sriracha sauce and Fettuccine Alfredo. Which sounds disgusting in the context I think you're implying, by the way."

Natasha grinned wolfishly and poured a good amount of the hot substance onto her pasta.

Peter, Rhodey, and Pietro all gagged.

"Guys, it's not that bad." Harley cocked his head, taking the sauce Natasha so gladly handed to him. "Have none of you ever tried it?"

"Oh god, there's two of them." Rhodey looked down at his plate sadly and put more food into his mouth. "This is exactly what I need."

The rest of the night was moderately uneventful. All the Avengers slunk off to do their own things while Peter and Gwen occupied the common room.

They watched _Wall–E_ first, then _Grease_ (both Gwen's choices). Tanya padded over to them midway through Wall-E, demanding affection loudly until she was settled into Peter's lap and purring happily as he stroked her ears.

"I have so many questions for you." Gwen whispered in a low tone, her eyes drooping a little and her hand fumbling the popcorn.

Peter nuzzled her hair gently and kissed her temple, chuckling because he could sense that she had things on her mind. "Lemme hear them, then."

FRIDAY turned the volume down a few notches so they could talk comfortably.

Gwen shifted her position so she was semi-facing Peter. "When and where exactly did you learn Russian?"

Spider hid his laugh behind his hand. "I thought you'd ask that." He didn't even consider telling her the truth. "I learned it when I was a kid, like I said."

"More secrets?" The blond cradled his jaw softly, brushing his long curls away from his eyes. She knew he didn't say anything about his childhood if he could help it.

"There are always more secrets." The ex-assassin answered sadly, eyes downcast.

"Why don't you talk about your childhood? I don't want to pry but you've just– you never say anything clear about when you were a kid. It's all vague."

Parker shrugged, but kept his mouth shut.

"Okay." Gwen sighed, still whispering. "Okay. Is– Is it because you don't trust me?"

"No. No, no, no, no. What gave you that idea?" Peter waved his hands quickly, a look of hurt on his face.

"You just always seem like you're hesitating on what you're saying."

"I do trust you, I do. But I just– I have a hard time getting close to people." _That sounds so stupid_.

"Well, I hope someday you can tell me more about yourself." Gwen smiled, her face lit dimly by the dark screen playing the credits.

It was just them in that moment, on the sofa, the TV being the only source of light. It felt quiet– safe and alone, but not lonely. No, not lonely.

Peter smiled back and leaned in to kiss her, easy and tender.

Gwen fell asleep twelve minutes into _Birdbox_. Spider lifted her up and carried her to the guest room closest to his room, placing her comfortably in the bed and leaving.

He cleaned up the bowls of popcorn and the cups, folded the blankets and arranged the pillows. The teen sighed and flopped down onto the couch, replaying the night's events in his head on repeat. His lips twitched into a smile and he closed his eyes.

"You look happy."

Peter's ears practically pricked up. He heard the nearly mute _thumps_ of an all-too-familiar heart and the quiet breathing of his closest friend.

"No sleep tonight?" Spider murmured, eyes remaining shut.

"Still early." Bucky pointed out.

Yeah, it was only around 12 AM. Still early.

"She asleep?" Barnes muttered, scanning the room and finding no sing of Peter's girlf– significant other.

The curly-haired boy took a deep breath. "You could call her by her real name. And yes, _Gwen_ is asleep."

Soldier snorted softly but didn't reply.

There was a comfortable silence between the two. Peter felt two strong hands wrap around his calves, lifting them up and then setting them down on a pair of equally strong thighs.

The two ex-assassins sat like that for a long time. Listening to each other's breathing and beating hearts. Bucky stared out at the city in front of him while Peter had his eyes closed, lost in thought. It was an easy quiet that they both enjoyed.

The analog clock in the kitchen tick-tocked, counting the swift seconds they spent in the dimness.

An hour ticked by. Then two. Then three.

Peter managed to doze off, purring loudly, but Bucky was as alert as ever, watching curiously for lights in the buildings around him to turn off and on.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but suddenly he was opening his eyes to the sound of Steve's laugh-filled voice.

"C'mon, jerk, are we running today or sleeping around?"

Bucky blinked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. There wasn't much light outside because of the winter month, but little slivers of the sunrise were breaking through the buildings far away. His hands were still secure on Peter's shins and the teen remained fast asleep. Just him and Steve were awake in the room.

"Peter." He muttered, eyeing the kid semi-on him.

"Move his ankles." Steve shrugged.

"Don't wanna wake him. Can't do that to him." Barnes croaked groggily.

"'S too late." Peter's small voice piped up, slurred. "Whattimeisit?"

"Seven thirty-two." Steve responded, looking guilty. "Sorry for waking you."

"Didn't wake me. Don't get much sleep anyways. I woke up at five for about forty minutes. You were out by that point, Soldier." Spider propped himself up on his elbows.

"Nightmare?" Bucky asked.

Peter shook his head, stiffly standing up. "Just can't sleep much." He smacked his lips, chasing away the sticky feeling of his spit on his lips. "I'm gonna make some breakfast. Want anything, Soldier?"

"Just some fruit. Gotta run later."

The morning went slow. Gwen came to kitchen a few minutes after Peter started making his bacon and eggs. Her mom picked her up at eleven, thanking them for having her. Harley was up at ten, looking exhausted and sleep-deprived. 'Barley slept more than a wink' was what he said.

It was another cold, dry night of patrolling where Peter got nothing else on the Lizard except one picture.

Well, actually, that picture was more useful than he first thought.

He stared at it, curled up tight with a blanket draped around his shoulders, and searched for any anomalies. It was blurry and obviously taken while Spider was rapidly turning a corner, but there was evidence. Peter just couldn't see it yet.

The sixteen year-old was good at analyzing people, but fuzzy pictures were a whole other thing.

Sighing and checking the time, he left his room and reluctantly knocked on Harley's door. No answer.

" _Mister Keener-Stark is in the lab with boss_." FRIDAY commented.

Another twist of jealousy burned in his gut like the starting flames to a wildfire. "Of course he is." He turned to the direction of the labs, easily slipping through the shadows of the low-lit Compound. The bright lights of the lab hurt his eyes, but the joyous chatter between Tony and Harley hurt his heart more.

Peter reconsidered the idea– they were happy. He didn't want to ruin that. But he did. Oh, he did. He didn't know what exactly the relationship between himself and Harley was, but the closest word he could find was 'rivalry'. They seemed to be competing for Mr. Stark's praise and acknowledgement without truly knowing each other or discussing it beforehand.

" _You seem to be having second thoughts, would you like me to help?_ "

 _How does she always know?_ "Nope. No, I'm good– Fantastic. I'm, uh, just fantastic."

There was something about the silence that made Spider believe the AI would be rolling her eyes if she could.

Peter did the retinal and hand scan, nerves spiking when the door opened and heads turned.

"Hey, Pete, come to join us? We're–"

"No thanks, Mr. Stark." He cut him off before he could make an offer he couldn't refuse. "I need Harley's help."

"My help?" The older teen echoed, all traces of his sly smile gone.

"Yeah. You like mysteries, right? Well I have one I need solved and I'm not sure I can do it alone. At least not this part of it." Parker shifted uncomfortably.

"Right now?"

"Preferably."

Harley looked to Tony for permission. Stark made a shooing motion and encouraged him to go, happy the two could bond some more.

"Alright. What's this mystery?" His deep voice questioned when the door shut behind them.

"I'm trying to catch the Lizard–you've heard of him, right?–but he always disappears and I'm getting a really good feeling about this image but I just can't figure out what. I thought since you love mysteries and all, you wouldn't mind helping." Peter rambled as they walked to his room.

"Slow down." He put a hand on his shoulder. "Lemme get this straight. You're trying to catch the Lizard?"

"Yes."

Harley sighed. "And you think you've got it 'cause you took a photo."

"Multiple, but this one is different. I know it is."

"Why don't you just let the police or Spider-Man handle this?"

Peter chuckled nervously and opened the door to his room. "Because I am Spider-Man."

"Shut the front door. No, you're not." The blond looked incredibly dubious, but was distracted by the posters, books, and inventions that decorated the room. He'd never been in Peter's bedroom before.

"Yes, I am. You don't seem too shocked." Spider eyed him as he walked to his cork board, which was covered in photos of his encounters and close-encounters with the Lizard.

"I'm not gonna believe somethin' like that! I'm not a naive little kid."

Peter shook his head. "Fine. I'll prove it." He removed his socks, restraining his hiss due to the chill, and planted one foot on the wall. Then he lifted himself up and planted another, eventually walking up horizontally.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck, dude. What the– goddamn– shit. You weren't lying. Does– do they all know? No, 'course they know. Stupid." Harley freaked out, stumbling back into the corner of the room next to the coat hooks. He exhaled in awe as Peter lowered himself from the roof with a web. "You're actually Spider-Man. Holy–"

"Harley–" 

The young man didn't listen to the brunette. He just kept rambling, running his fingers through his long blond hair.

"Harley–"

"–insane. How'd that happen? So you really don't–"

"Harley _listen to me._ " The ex-assassin gripped his shoulders with unmatched strength and gently shook him a few times. "Questions later. Right now, I have more pressing matters to deal with and I need your help."

"Okay, yeah. Yup. Sorry. What is it?" Still wide-eyed but more focused, Harley managed to bite away the questions pouring into his head like a waterfall.

Peter explained what the Lizard has been doing– disturbing but not harming, running away, and then just disappearing.

"Sounds to me like he's tryna lead you somewhere."

"But why would he just–?"

"Hm. Not sure. Hand me the photo."

Spider gave him the blurred picture, sucking in a deep, tired breath.

Harley scanned it for an eternity of ten minutes. "I think I found something."

Peter perked up, back straightening and eyes brightening. "Seriously!? What?"

"Look there." He pointed to the circular sewage grate that sat in the top-right of the corner. It was barely fully visible thanks to the majority of the photo being taken up by the wall. "Think those are claw marks. The ground 's a bit lighter there."

"It was raining earlier though. It could just be a few dry patches." Peter frowned.

"No. Look, there's light coming from all 'round that area. It would all be soaked. These are definitely scratches. Match the description. And the grate. It's too blurry to truly tell but I think it's a bit askew. Like someone–or something–took it off and put it back on hastily. Could be the bad quality though."

"So do you think he leaves through the sewers every time?" The younger teen slumped back in his desk chair, pieces pulling apart and reforming in his mind. He was _such a dumbass_. "I'm such an idiot. Of _course_ he does."

Harley hummed. "Next time you see him, just follow him into the sewers."

"And if it's a trap?"

"I'm sure it isn't. You said you heard radio static, right? Lizard's probably got an ear piece or somethin'. Someone's telling him where to go and what to do. I'm sure of it. Maybe the person in charge wants to chat civilly."

Peter was doubtful, but nodded along. "Thanks for the help."

Spider woke the next day, shivering violently from the frostier-than-normal temperature. He curled up as tight as a snake constricting around its prey, but no changes came. Whining, the teen opened his eyes, giving them time to adjust as he looked around.

Through the crack between his closed curtains, he could make out a lot of whiteness. No, it wasn't light. There was still the blackened trees and occasional evergreen, but they were dusted thickly in a powdery white substance.

Peter shot up, ignoring the cold, and dashed to his window, tripping over his sheets on the way. He drew back the curtains in record time and viewed the lawn and forest outside his bedroom window.

Everything outside was coated in a medium layer of the pearly stuff.

"Soldier!" Peter called excitedly, skidding out of the room at an inhuman speed and racing down the hall. "Soldier! Sol–"

He was cut off when he almost barrelled into the confused man.

"Whoa, kid, is there a fire?" Barnes threw some mildly alarmed glances at the other Avengers in the room. They just shrugged.

"What– no. No there's no fire. But," The teen dragged him to the window of the common room, pointing outside furiously, "look outside! Look! That's snow, right? _Right_?"

Bucky's eyebrows raised in realization and he exhaled shakily. "You've never seen snow before?"

The others in the room looked up in curiosity, but didn't speak.

"Well, kinda, but it was always painted red. Blood, you know? But there's white snow now! And there're no dead people out there. At least. I don't think so. Can we go out? Please, Soldier?" Peter shook away the bad thoughts and beamed brighter than ever before.

Barnes noticed that he resembled a puppy dog wagging his tail eagerly at the thought of going for a walk. "Yeah, we can go out. Warn you though, it's really cold. You'll need lots more layers on you."

Peter whooped loudly and threw his hands up. "I'm gonna make the biggest snowman ever!" He then faltered and nervously met Bucky's eyes. "That's what those round three-circle people-things are called, right?"

"Yeah. As long as it's packing snow."

"Packing snow?"

"Can't make a snowman with fluffy snow. Gotta have the stiff stuff."

"There are different kinds of snow?" The teen exclaimed loudly, eyes wide as the friggin' sun now.

Soldier hummed and nodded.

Peter shrieked in disbelief and bolted to get his winter gear on.

Bucky chuckled quietly and turned to the other people in the room. "Any of you want to come out too?"

The twins immediately shot up, along with a slower Natasha, and finally a shrugging Sam. Might as well go out in the first snow of the year.

They got ready and met Peter–who was vibrating with excitement–in the little mudroom connecting the side of the common room to a portion of the huge balcony.

"Ready?" Romanoff asked.

Spider nodded so fast they thought he'd get whiplash.

"Go ahead. We're right behind you." Bucky said.

Peter was out of there before he could finish talking. He sprinted out and tested the snow. It was fluffy–not ideal for making a snowman–and freezing cold. Also not ideal for thermoregulation. Peter dragged his feet through the powdery stuff, squealing in glee when a trail formed behind him. He made a trail all the way down the stairs and into the huge lawn.

"Look! I made a trail!" He bellowed to the others, who were now just getting onto the lawn.

"You're the first person to do that here, that's pretty monumental." Natasha chimed, smiling.

Peter beamed and ran around, making swirls of trails, kind of like Toothless from HTTYD with his stick.

Pietro and Wanda were flinging flimsy snowballs at each other, laughing and wrestling. When they sunk down and didn't reappear, Spider walked over, interested. As he neared, he found them on their backs, waving their arms and legs out, creating openings in the snow.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Snow angels!" Wanda replied happily. "Come join us."

He lied down a decent ways away, but didn't move.

"Move your arms and legs in big semi-circles like this." Pietro demonstrated. He sat up and carefully removed himself, gesturing grandly to his product. "See? It looks like an angel."

Peter peered over Wanda and saw, grinning broadly when he saw that it indeed looked like a classic angel. He dropped back down and got to work, set on making the best first snow angel anyone's ever seen.

Like Pietro had shown him, he delicately removed himself and stood to the side.

"I did it!"

Natasha and Bucky walked over.

"Very impressive, маленький паук." The redhead nudged him playfully, smiling like a proud mo– friend.

Soldier gaze warmly at him. "Good job, kid."

They spent another ten minutes outside until Peter's body decided it was time to stop working. Romanoff, Barnes, and Parker went back in, but left the Maximoffs to take a walk around.

since his body had semi-shut down and he was left with not much energy, the rest of Peter's day was spent consuming hot chocolate, watching old black and white movies, and drowning in blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I've been dead. I know. I'm sorry. As awesome as art school is, I don't get any time to indulge in my regular hobbies, let alone write fanfic. But I'm not putting this on hold! I will keep writing because I really want to. It's a nice place for me to escape reality.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed that fluffy and also jealous!peter chapter. There's much more in store for the next one so stay tuned!
> 
> Wrapping you guys in warm blankets during these colder months (or, if you live in Australia or someplace similar, I'm offering you some not-wildfire-like weather),
> 
> ~Swindle


	37. Ch 36-Maybe we don't hate each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I ACCIDENTALLY PUT THIS CHAPTER BEFORE THE LAST ONE. AND THAT'S NOT THE CORRECT ORDER. I'M SO SORRY IF YOU READ IT LIKE THAT. I DON'T KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There are French lyrics at some point in this story. I am bilingual and have translated them but I will warn you that they may not be 100% accurate as I am a little rusty. (But they should be fine).

**3rd POV**

Monday morning, Harley and Peter sat waiting for Happy in the kitchen. Neither of them knew they'd be carpooling together, so they didn't suspect anything.

" _Happy is here_." FRIDAY announced.

"Thanks, FRI." They said at the same time. Their heads whipped to face each other with surprised looks on their faces.

Skeptically, they made their way down to the garage, calculating each other's moves.

When Peter opened the door to the Audi, Harley did a double-take, but didn't say anything. They drove in tense silence, fidgeting and avoiding each other's eyes. Spider knew what was happening but Harley hadn't a clue.

Happy was a bit concerned by the quietness, however chose not to comment so he could bask in it.

They pulled up to Midtown, thankfully nobody staring anymore, and both teens pulled the car door open.

Harley froze. "Peter?"

"Harley?" He _really_ didn't want to have this conversation.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to school."

"Why're you getting out here?"

"Because I go to school here."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't think it was important." Peter jutted his chin out stubbornly.

Harley locked his jaw, gritted his teeth, and forced his way out of the dark vehicle.

Spider had no choice but to sigh and do the same.

Keener-Stark earned some intrigued looks as he walked confidently through the halls. His head was held high, he looked decently strong, had a moderately sharp jawline, and he towered over half the student body, so most people thought he was a bit intimidating. Not to mention that he was a new kid.

Though vexed, Peter did the same because most of his classes were with Harley and his locker was only a hallway away.

"Hey, Pe– Dude, what's wrong?" Ned said when he got to his locker.

Gwen looked up from her conversation with MJ. "You don't look too happy. Is it something about the internship?" She whispered.

"No." He replied curtly and shut his locker with as much control as possible. "Harley goes to this school now."

"I know, he told me. But why is that a problem?"

"I just–" The brunette shook his head. "Don't worry about it. The bell's gonna ring soon. We should get going."

His first class went smoothly. Nothing out of the ordinary. His second class was also perfectly fine. Harry made his occasional vague/concerning comments and stupid Orphan Gang jokes, so everything was how it always is. Third class wasn't so awesome. Harley sat two seats diagonal-in front of him. Peter kept an interested eye on him but all he found was that Harley was decent at Calculus. And that he kept his last name as just 'Keener' in school.

Lunch rolled around unpredictably fast and Peter sat with his usual group. They laughed, talked about homework, discussed stupid theories, and played cards. Spider saw Harley scan for a place to sit. They made challenging eye contact but Keener looked away, marching confidently to the football player's table. Apparently, he'd already befriended one of them because they waved him over happily.

Out of Peter's other three classes and one elective, Harley was in two of them– PE and Public speaking.

During PE, Harry and Peter sat on the bleachers during the class' break.

"Something's off about you today and I can't figure out what." Harry remarked casually.

"What do you mean?" Peter blinked and played dumb, not having the energy to explain forthright.

Osborn scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You've been uncomfortable all day. I didn't want to say anything earlier because you seemed like you needed a good distraction. I know I wasn't here in the morning. Is there something I missed?"

Spider looked around, checking that their other friends were far enough away and distracted so the two could talk freely. "I don't really know what's going on, man. Ever since Harley came, I feel like Mr. Stark hasn't been paying much attention to me anymore. And I get, I do. Harley has to get comfortable with all the people here and the big, new place. But I still feel stupidly j-jealous– which I shouldn't feel. Mr. Stark is Mr. Stark. He's– I'm not– He's his own person." Peter took a deep breath and calmed the storm that rose within him. "Harley and I have this weird rivalry-thing where we're kinda competing for Mr. Stark's prai– acknowledgement. I hate how every single time he's acknowledged, I get jealous and I want to be better."

Harry, ever the awkward advice-giver, patted Peter stiffly on the back. "It's not stupid or wrong to want validation. That's normal. People–especially kids and teens–seek it to confirm that what they're doing is right– that they're on a good path and nobody is looking down on them as though they're insignificant. Kids like us didn't have that growing up. Orphan gang and all." He offered a smile and a weak chuckle at his own joke. "I think Stark is the first person who's given you so much true validation that because you're now splitting it with someone, you feel lesser. You're not doing anything wrong, Peter. Most importantly, your feelings are not invalid. They're very just. But Harley seems like a genuinely nice guy and I think it'd be a good idea if you two talked about this."

"Thanks, Harry." Peter smiled at his third-closest friend.

"No problem, dude."

"Hey do you want to maybe come over after school to work on our government assignments? I'll have to check with Mr. Stark but you've already been to the tower so..."

Before Osborn got the chance to answer, Ned walked up with a gleeful smile on his face.

"Guys, there's less than a month until Christmas! Aren't you excited?"

"I never really celebrated." Harry replied, tone colder than normal. His hand suddenly flew up to scratch the back of his neck and he made an 'agh' sound, startling the other two boys.

"You okay, dude?" Leeds questioned.

"Fine. Just a fly probably." The teen waved off.

Peter failed to note the pale, dead, green skin on his fingernails and how he re-adjusted his collar.

Ned nodded. "Anyways, what about you, Peter? Excited for Christmas?"

Spider paused for a split-second, collecting any and all data he had in his head about 'Christmas'. From what he saw on TV, it was a holiday celebrated with gifts, a tree, and weird decorations. Also songs, but that was just beyond confusing to him. He'd heard the other kids in school mention it a few times before, and judging by their short snippets of conversation, it was a big holiday.

Peter, settling on picking a careful reply, chose to half-match Ned's excited tone. "Yeah, man! I'm super excited."

"What do you think–"

Coach Wilson blew the whistle, cutting off the excited brunette. Spider couldn't silently thank the man enough.

Harry carpooled with Peter and Harley at the end of the day. The Osborn stroke up a friendly but trademark Harry-like conversation with the new kid. Keener, not knowing that Harry is just naturally very odd and says mildly concerning things, looked very uneasy the whole time. Parker didn't care to tell him that this was normal, instead opting for observing their talk with a small, amused smile.

When they arrived in the empty common room, Harley walked to his room. He looked back once, unsettled, before turning the corner.

"I think you scared him."

Harry chuckled darkly and grinned form ear to ear. "Wouldn't be the first time I've scared someone from just a few sentences."

"I honestly think your presence alone scares him." Peter said in awe, removing his shoes and sitting down on the plush couch. He sighed in relief when he sagged into the comforting material.

The darker brunette slid into the armchair beside him. "Sure hope so or that'll be a problem."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't worry about it." Harry shook his head and plopped himself into the desk chair.

Peter laughed airily at his friend's comment and took out his work.

After about 30 minutes, he decided to ask a question. "Don't answer this if you don't want to, but what was your dad like? Did you like him?"

"God, no. I hated him." Harry scratched the back of his neck again, agitation on his features.

"Why'd you hate him?"

Osborn looked bleakly at the city in front of him, face expressionless. "Where do I start?" He smiled weakly for just a moment. "First of all, he shipped me off to boarding school as soon as he could. I was twelve when I was sent to Switzerland all alone. No 'see you on Christmas'. No 'make friends'. No 'have fun'. Not even a 'goodbye'. I was on my own. All he did was send me a couple hundred dollars a month with an explanation email blatantly obvious that it written by Mr. Rathta. The first few years, I went home for Christmas and summer, but it was spent alone. I was almost happy when I wasn't invited back at fourteen."

Harry took a shuddery breath, steeling himself, then continued coldly. "Three goddamn years later I was finally invited back into _my own house_. I show up and apparently the old geezer is _dying?_ His last words were something like 'yeah time to inherent Oscorp' and then he fucking croaks! Three years of complete silence and I come back just to watch my father die." The teen was seething at this point, knuckles white with how hards he was gripping his pencil. Something... guilty flashed across his face and he went slack, hand rubbing his temple. "I'm sorry, Peter."

Peter cocked his head. "'Sorry'? Sorry for what?"

Harry's hands fiddled with his pencil. "I'm speaking ill of my father when you don't have one."

Spider laughed. "You're also speaking ill of the dead so it's even. Besides, I don't really care. I think I'm doing better with no father than one like yours, no offense."

A smile crept onto the billionaire's lips. "None taken."

Harry left an hour later, refusing to stay for dinner. He lay in his bed late that night and thought about what Peter said about his feelings towards Harley and Stark. The business man decided to keep this knowledge to himself instead of sharing it with his 'coworker'.

Three days later and it was the 1st of December. There was a light layer of snow outside and the world looked incredibly bleak. Peter's day had been long and freezing. An elevated buzz of conversations surrounding Christmas was all he ever seemed to hear. It was honestly getting tiring.

Frustrated with his confusion, he sought out Mr. Stark when he got home. Sadly, but not oddly, the man was with Harley. Peter turned on his heels before they could see him and marched down to the training room, finding just the person he was looking for.

"Hey, мама паук." He called out to the fighting lady a few meters away.

Natasha dodged Bucky's punch. "Time-out." The two stopped sparring and got water. "Hey, маленький паук."

Peter brightened and smiled widely at the man in the room. "Hi, Soldier!"

Unlike usual, Bucky didn't reply. He just nodded briskly and offered a quick smile. Peter didn't know why he felt disappointed by his reaction, but something in his heart wilted just the slightest bit.

"I have a question." The curly-haired superhero ignored the feeling and kept his smile up.

Natasha leaned back against a pole on the obstacle course. She crossed her arms and gave the teen a look that said 'continue'.

"What exactly _is_ Christmas?"

For just a moment, Romanoff lost her immaculate composure. Her arms lost their grip for a split-second, faltering and then repositioning again as though it didn't happen. Steely jade eyes went soft, conflicted, and downright sad. Bucky didn't look much different beside her, but he did show his emotions more openly.

"I know it's a holiday in December and that it's popular. And I know that there are decorations and gifts and trees and big meals, I think? But where did it come from? Why is it a holiday? What do you actually do on it?"

"Do you know the... story... of Jesus?" Natasha prompted slowly.

"Yeah. He's the son of God, right? But also actually God, just on Earth. He's in the Bible. He had followers and performed miracles and introduced people to Christianity and rose from the dead at some point."

"To put it simply, yes. Christmas Day is the same day Jesus was born. That's what makes it so important. Jesus is, well, a huge deal." A small laugh escaped her lips at how much she was downplaying it. The redhead went on to explain the whole tradition with the help of Bucky, who used to be very religious when he was younger.

"Huh." Was all Peter managed to say. His mind was still processing everything. Everything was a lot.

"You okay, kid?" Bucky asked when the boy failed to move. Or blink, even.

Parker shook away the jumbled thoughts and blinked his honey eyes a few times. "Yup. Just processing. Holidays are still weird concepts to me." Hell, _weekends_ are still a weird concept to him.

"It's a lot to take in. Take your time." Natasha agreed, patting his shoulder gently and turning back to the mat.

"Th-thank you!" Spider called hurriedly as he left, almost forgetting to say his thanks.

After calming Bucky from a nightmare at 4 AM, Peter lay awake in the older's bed, listening to his even, asleep breathing. Millions of thoughts raced through his head. Some around the Lizard, some around Harley. Most were around Christmas. _Christmas. It's a holiday you give gifts on, right? I should probably get some things then. Shuri could help me. She knows lots about the others. She'll probably know what they want._

Peter turned around, seeing Bucky's face clearly with his night vision. It still amazed him how soft and caring he looked while he was asleep. He wasn't tense or sharp like this. Just _peaceful_.

The vigilante closed his eyes and shifted closer to the living furnace. When his heart sped up at the close contact, he blatantly ignored it.

The next day was Thursday. A moderately uneventful school day for Peter. There was yet to be any progress on the whole Harley issue. They remained competing and Harley was still terrified of Harry on the down-low. Jealously kept twisting its way into Peter's gut, but that was ignored just like his weird, warm feelings towards Bucky.

When he got home, FRIDAY made an announcement. " _Mr. Parker, Mr. Keener-Stark, the majority of the Avengers have gone away on a mission. Mr. Stark has left an audio clip for you. Playing now:_

 _"'Hey kiddos, we got called on an emergency mission so we'll be gone for a week or so. Eyesight and Platypus stayed at the Compound. Pretty sure Candidate's at the Tower somewhere too.'"_ There was a clanging and the sound of Clint cursing. Tony chuckled before continuing. _"'Speaking of, Happy will take you over the weekend unless you want to stay at the tower. I think her royal highness plans on flying over tomorrow afternoon too. Try not to die.'"_

Peter turned on the stove and took out eggs as he was listening. "Thanks, FRI."

"Who's 'her royal highness'?"

"Shuri Udaku."

"Wha– The _princess_ of _Wakanda_?" His mouth hung open and just stood there wis his bag half-slung on his shoulder.

Spider let a smirk spread across his face only because his back was turned. He could practically _see_ Harley's look of aching jealousy. "She's my best friend."

Harley frowned, muttered something like 'That's so stupidly cool, goddamn', and stalked off to his room. Once the older teen was out of earshot, Peter let out a wheezy giggle, a feeling of pride and victory coursing through his veins.

It was a relatively quiet evening of homework, cooking dinner, and web-slinging for an hour around New York. Peter reluctantly avoided going out as much these days thanks to the chill. He only went out for an hour or two at a time instead of four/five to avoid dying.

As Peter was playing War with Bucky, a plan was forming in his brain. He thought back to the first time he went to Ned's place. To the time this idea first struck him. Now that he was in the right situation to instigate it, adding on the good timing of the year, he wanted to start sooner than later. But not until tomorrow because it was already late and he didn't intend on making noise in the ungodly hours of the night.

A soft knock at Peter's door broke him from his absent-minded daydream.

 _Who could it be? It's late– nearly two AM._ His first thought went to Bucky. Except Bucky usually just waltzes right in.

"Tell them they can come in, FRI." He commanded in an above–whisper, voice hoarse from exhaustion and disuse.

The clunky, trying-hard-to-be-quiet-but-I-clearly-don't-have-much-practice footsteps immediately ruled out almost every single Avenger except maybe Bruce, Vision, and a half-asleep Tony. Only, two of the three weren't here and their natural scent was relatively new so Peter switched to the last option.

"What do you want, Harley?" His tone held no bitterness or bite, just fatigue with a hint of perplexion.

The footfalls faltered, leading the ex-assassin to believe he was correct.

"How'd you know it was me?" Harley asked despite the fact that there were literally _two_ options. You could practically _hear_ him scowling. The door closed automatically behind him.

Spider sat up and sifted through his bedside table before finding a box of matches. He lit a flame–which, to his amusement, caused the intruder to yelp in alarm–and ignited a few candles. (He doesn't like turning on lamps because they hurt his eyes much more than the average person. Especially when you turn them on after prolonged periods of darkness). Now Harley could see him in the dim glow.

Peter blinked slowly– he wasn't fully awake even though he hadn't slept yet. "You have loud footsteps."

Another scowl and Parker shrugged.

"Why're you awake?" Harley asked from the foot of his bed. He looked so awkward just shuffling his feet. The tension wasn't helping their already-weird talk in the middle of the night.

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?" The curly-haired boy rolled his eyes and dragged a hand down his face.

"Touché." He sighed.

"Sit down. You look uncomfortable standing there."

Harley climbed onto the Queen bed and sat criss-cross in front of him, back hunched from lack of energy.

"I have insomnia." Peter confessed.

"What?"

"You asked why I'm awake. I have insomnia."

"Oh... That sucks man, I'm sorry." His reply was genuine and it surprised Spider.

"Now are you gonna tell me why you're awake and why you're in my room. Thought you hated me."

Harley's head snapped up. "I don't hate you!" He quieted his voice when he realized he had nearly yelled. "I don't hate you. You're just– It's– You're my rival. 'Sides, only other person here 's Mr. Barnes and he... kinda... scares me."

Peter cocked his brow and huffed in amusement but said nothing.

"I can't sleep." Harley muttered quietly–shyly–as if it were some kind of devilish curse.

"Why not?" The web-slinger probed.

There was a deliberate pause. "I don't want to sound ungrateful."

"Doesn't matter." He shook his head. "You came to _me_. I want answers."

Peter heard spit force its way down the dirty-blond's neck, his Adam's Apple bobbing along with it.

"I don't... Like living here. Wait no– that's not right." Harley waved his hands and backtracked, "I don't feel _comfortable_ living here. No, that's not right either."

Parker let out a short laugh at his rival's dismay. He had a good idea of what he wanted to say, but he'd let him say it instead of butting in and guessing.

"I'm not used to this. That's the best way to say it. I just– I grew up pretty poor. I'm used to not eating much, being cold in the winter, sometimes not having clean clothes, yadda yadda. I don't know anything about," he motioned all around him, "this life. I feel kinda like a charity case. Like Mr. Stark took pity on me just 'cause I was fostered and had even less than before." Harley sighed and scratched the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, I don't– I don't know how you lived before this and I don't want to sound ungrateful but–"

"I get it." Peter stated simply, earning his attention.

He knows what it's like coming from nothing and then suddenly having the world handed to him on a silver platter. Anything and everything he could ever wish for was just within arm's reach. He was living a dream that countless people longed for. Yet some days he didn't enjoy this way of life. It could be too much– too overwhelming and _capable._

"I really do. I came from a very poor place too and suddenly I'm here and I don't know how. It's daunting, I get that. You'll get used to it eventually. But there will always be days where you won't enjoy your new way of life compared to your old one. No matter how much better it is." Spider's face softened and he smiled gently.

Harley shifted where he sat, a smile also breaking out onto his face. However his lips turned down slightly when a thought crossed his mind. "The old geezer hasn't told me anything about your past. Jus' that he picked you up one day and you've been living here since."

"And the Spider-Man-slash-fake-internship thing." Parker chimed in helpfully before Harley could continue.

"Mm that too. Don't wanna pry or be insensitive, but with the way he said it, were you– were you homeless?"

Peter sighed and frowned, expression turning so serious that Harley barely recognized him. "Look, there are things I can't tell you about my past. Things that most people can't and shouldn't know. Secrets I'll take to my grave. I come from a dark place, Harley. I wasn't homeless, but Mr. Stark wasn't lying when he said he literally 'picked me up one day'."

Harley didn't really know how to react to that. It intrigued him. But he knew all about dark pasts–even if his wasn't nearly as bad as his rival's–so he wouldn't ask about it any further. He just nodded slowly. "Okay."

"What about you? Don't know much about you either. How'd you meet Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, frown turning into an easy grin.

"Oh, that's an interesting story. He crash-landed in my hometown, Roseville, Tennessee. Found him in my garage when I was around eight or nine, I think. Dunno, the years are blurry. Hid him away for a while and helped him get back on his feet. As a 'thank you', he turned my garage into a little lab 'cause he found out I'm into science. We been keeping in touch every once in a while since." Harley's brow furrowed. "I stopped responding after I was fostered and he got concerned. Tracked me down and adopted me right then and there."

Peter cackled with a hand over his mouth. "Sounds like Mr. Stark." There was a short period of silence before he spoke up again. "You were fostered? If you don't mind my asking, what happened to your family?"

"Mama was a druggie. Sis and I got taken away from her almost a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is your– is your sister okay?" A wave of pity enveloped Parker. He couldn't imagine how terrible it would be to be taken away from family.

"She's fine. Some friends from back home adopted her. Wanted to adopt me too but I refused. Didn't want to be a bother and make their family bigger. 'Sides, didn't know them much." Harley fell back onto the bed, arms splayed out beside him. "Sis and I keep in touch. She really likes her new home an' I'm happy for her. Miss her though."

"It's good that she's happy. And I'm sure she misses you too. Maybe she could come and visit? I'm sure Mr. Stark wouldn't mind."

The new Stark nodded but didn't say anything else on the topic. "I know I can't know much about your past but what about family? Did you– or do you still have any?"

"Well... aside from my godmother, I have nobody from my past. Both my parents died, as well as my aunt and uncle. Don't think there are any grandparents alive either or I would've met them. I'm the last Parker in my family."

"Shit, man, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." Harley sat up abruptly, eyes wide.

"Don't worry. I was young when they died so it hasn't impacted me much."

Harley hummed solemnly and his brow furrowed. "Do you remember your dad at all?"

"No. Do you? I noticed you never mentioned your dad. You don't– you don't have to answer that." Peter frowned at his possible mistake, arms crossing.

"Bits and pieces of him. I was young–probably seven–when he left. Was a nice enough man– taught me how to ride a bike, about history, science, that stuff, but... that's when he wasn't drunk. I remember him yelling at my mama a lot, hitting her sometimes when he got really mad. I'd sit in my room against my closed door just after running away from my dad, listening to what was happening and waiting for my mama to come tell me it was okay to come out.

"That's when her drug problem started. She'd be high and he'd be drunk. She wasn't physically abusive, but she yelled too. At me, mostly. I stayed away from them as much as possible. Then my dad up and left and her drug problem got worse. I met the old geezer a year or two later and he was a good excuse to stay away from her. Another year passed by and my mama's pregnant with my sister after some hook-up in a bar.

"Things got worse. Her drug problem spiralled and depression hit her. Barely ever talked to us." He laughed bitterly and his eyes glossed with restrained tears. "The CPS were out for us but mama was stubborn and we moved to Ohio. Five months go by and this time we move to Idaho. Two months later, we're in Missouri. Four months and it's Maryland. Then back to Tennessee. That's where the CPS and the cops got me an' my sis. Almost a year later and I'm here in this room." Harley sucked in a breath after his long story, salty water leaking out of his eyes in a silent cry.

Peter was quiet, processing everything, as he observed the now more fidgety body language of his guest.

"Oh God, I didn't mean to say all that. It just came out. Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." Keener-Stark put a hand to his head and wiped his tears, avoiding Spider's gaze. "'M sorry I'm crying. It's– it's stupid."

"No, no, no, no, no, don't apologize. I'm glad you opened up. That stuff can't be easy to talk about. I'm really– Uh– Really proud of you. It's okay to cry. I'm not going to judge you. I cry a lot." Peter replied hurriedly, a nervous smile on his face.

"Oh. Thanks."

A calm silence enveloped them but neither knew what to do. Harley's eyes kept leaking but he didn't sob, they were always silent tears.

"Do you– Do you want to sleep here tonight?" Parker hummed quietly.

Harley nodded mutely so Peter drew back the covers, inviting him in. The older teen clambered in, albeit a little clumsily, and settled himself under Spider's chin. Peter blew out the candles and pulled the covers up so they were snug inside.

"Goodnight." Harley muttered as he instinctively curled into Parker's chest. He's never had this level of closeness with anyone other than his sister. Not even his mother had done this before she was a druggie.

"Goodnight." Peter echoed softly, bringing him closer. Despite their rivalry and dislike for each other, he knew that Harley needed this. And who was he to deny affection after being so deprived of it?

They laid there for a few minutes before Harley began to shake. Soft, miserable hiccups came from buried in Spider's chest. Peter gripped him tight, rubbing soothing circles into his back and murmuring kind nothings into his ear.

The sobs didn't fade out, even after thirty minutes, so Peter did something he hasn't done to even Bucky.

He sung.

_"'On m'avait dit: Te poses pas trop de questions  
Tu sais petite, c'est la vie qui t' répond  
A quoi ça sert de vouloir tout savoir?  
Regarde en l'air et voit c'que tu peux voir'"_

Harley's cries faltered for a moment and he stilled, unsure of what was really happening.

_"'On m'avait dit: Faut écouter son père  
Le mien a rien dit, quand il s'est fait la paire  
Maman m'a dit: T'es trop p'tite pour comprendre  
Et j'ai grandi avec une place à prendre'"_

He was shocked when he realized the Peter was singing to him. Not only that, but also that Peter was an unbelievably good singer.

_"'Qui a le droit, qui a le droit  
Qui a le droit d' faire ça?  
A un enfant qui croit vraiment  
C' que disent les grands?'"_

Even though the teen didn't know the song and couldn't understand any of it, Harley found solace in the foreign lyrics. They felt reassuring in an inexplainable way. He felt as though they were for him and him only.

_"'On passe sa vie à dire merci  
Merci à qui, à quoi?  
A faire la pluie et le beau temps  
Pour des enfants à qui l'on ment'"_

Harley could feel his sobs die down and his heart ache a little less, but the song continued.

_"'On m'avait dit que les hommes sont tous pareilles  
_ _Y a plusieurs dieux, mais y' a qu'un seul soleil...'"_

With that, Harley felt himself be pulled away into a peaceful darkness, the sound of Peter's siren-liked voice never stopping.

Harley woke up confused. There were two lanky arms wrapped around him and he was tucked into somebody's embrace.

"Morning." The voice above him said.

Keener-Stark moved away and sat up on his elbows, gazing around at his surroundings. He spotted Peter right next to him, looking wide awake. _Ah, right. That wasn't a dream._

"Morning." Harley replied. "I'm sorry for–"

"Ah, ah. No apologies. How do you feel?"

The older teen considered this for a second. "Better." He answered truthfully. "A lot better."

"Good. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah. It was really peaceful." Harley stretched his sore limbs and rid his eyes of their little crusties. "How long have you been awake?"

Peter looked over at the clock. "Maybe fifty minutes or so."

"That early? It's seven."

"Insomnia." He clicked his tongue.

"Right. Forgot."

Peter slipped out of the bed and pulled on another sweater. "Hungry? I'll make breakfast."

"Sure. I'll have whatever."

The ex-assassin nodded and exited the room, leaving Harley alone with his jumbled emotions.

"I need your help with something."

Harley looked up from his eggs, signaling that the younger teen had his attention.

"I have a plan for an early Christmas gift for the Avengers and since they're gone right now, it's the perfect time to go through with it, but I need your help."

"What's in it for me?" Keener-Stark grinned.

Peter laughed. "If you help, you'll be included in the 'who gave the gift' thing. It'll be from both of us."

Harley thought it over. "Deal. Now tell me about this plan of yours."

Parker smiled and explained everything.

Shuri was of course at the Tower when they got home from school.

"Broken white boy!" She called when she spotted him walk out of the elevator.

"Favourite brown girl!" He automatically replied loudly, holding his arms open so she could crush him to death in a big hug.

When they were done relishing in their friendship, Harley spoke up, bowing awkwardly. "Hello, your highness."

Shuri, like everyone else that meets the young man, was momentarily surprised by his deep voice. She shook her head and laughed good-naturedly, waving her arm. "We don't do that here." Harley fidgeted a little and Shuri rolled her eyes, sticking her hand out. "Shuri."

"Harley Keener-Stark." He took it confidently and the princess dragged him into a hug.

Once they were done with introductions and catching-up, Peter filled her in on the plan and asked her about gifts as they drove to the Compound. Shuri immediately agreed to help and offered her wise insight.

They spent their whole evening measuring photos, printing photos out, and looking through the useless storage room to find suitable frames. It was long and tedious work, but Peter had hope the Avengers would like it.

"Okay, we'll put them together and up tomorrow?" Peter asked, though it was more of a statement considering it was already around 11pm.

"Sounds good." The other two teens agreed, heading their separate ways to bed.

Saturday was even busier. The three meticulously finished the final two steps of Peter's plan A. Spider's anxious self had even gotten opinions from Gwen and Ned on how it looked. (They thought it was a really good idea and that the Avengers would love it).

Since nobody was really home, they had the Compound to themselves. Shuri and Harley got to know each other by bonding over mutual interests and their favourite vines. Peter, on the other hand, chilled silently the entire time, figuratively and literally. He quickly found that he had significantly less energy in the winter time thanks to how hard it is to maintain adequate body heat without burning to a crisp. It made it hard to run around and have fun with his friends and it caused him to get snappy and frustrated. As cool as winter is, Peter wished greatly that he wasn't a cross-species experiment.

Thankfully, everyone understood that winter was a less than pleasant experience for him most days. They let him spend as much time as he needed in his room, bundled up in countless blankets, or just refusing to talk.

"You seem really close to Sergeant Barnes."

Peter looked over at Harley, who was fixing something in the hood of one of Mr. Stark's cars. "You seem really scared of him." He countered.

The dirty blond chuckled. "I'll bite. Yes, I am. He's a scary guy! I know he would never hurt me but the way he looks at me just makes me shiver. It's like a hawk sizing up a mouse. I don't know how you can just sit yourself on his lap without him gettin' angry."

"We've known each other for a while. He's a really... warm person once you get to know him, but he can be pretty cold on the outside most days. Don't worry, he doesn't dislike you, he's probably just not used to you or how to act around you. Would you like me to tell him he scares you?" Peter teased.

Harley shook his head. "Nope, I'm good. He can stay scary."

Tuesday came at a sluggish pace for everyone, especially Peter. He had been held back from going on patrol for two days straight and he was not happy about it. Not only that, he was also frustrated with the Lizard. The scaly dude hadn't showed up in two weeks! Two. Weeks. That was the longest he's ever been gone since his return. Spider was worried that he was going back into hiding.

He had no new information on him and no chance to track him back to wherever he disappears off to. Peter started to think that the Lizard knew the teen was onto him. It was a game of cat and mouse, and right now, Connors was in the lead.

Without anything new to go off of, Peter knew he'd have to get some help. The only problem was he didn't like where...

"Mr. Parker, why are you not in school?" Captain Stacy asked, obviously still very angry with him, as he got up to leave the room.

"I got a study period. Teacher didn't show up and there was no sub to cover." Peter replied calmly but swiftly as he followed the authority figure out of his office.

The Captain strode through the building at a fast pace. "Okay, well, I do not have a study period. Make your point quickly."

"Okay I know Dr. Connors still works at Oscorp and he isn't considered to be a dangerous person anymore but he's still the Lizard and he's still very powerful. W– You need to capture him and put him in jail before it's too late–" Peter sped-talked.

"Dr. Connors of Oscorp?"

"That's right."

"The same Dr. Connors who is my daughter's mentor?" A lady came along and Mr. Stacy quickly signed the papers in her hands.

"That's the one."

Stacy stopped in his tracks, turning to face Peter. "You know, recently Dr. Connors gave my daughter a glowing college recommendation. It was beautiful. When I read it, I cried. I know that in his spare time, Dr. Connors is running around as a giant green lizard but I cannot risk my daughter's education to put him in jail. He's not hurting anyone or doing damage to much of anything so there's no reason to intervene."

"But he's dangerous. I have proof that he could be working with someone else–someone more powerful–if you just gave me a chance, please–" Before he could finish, he was being escorted away.

He was too far away at that point to hear Captain Stacy sigh and walk over to a co-worker saying, "Give me everything you have on Dr. Curtis Connors along with his alter-ego, the Lizard. Whatever you can find on Oscorp and Dr. Connors' present, future and past experiments too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric Translation:
> 
> I was told: don’t ask too many questions  
> You know, little one, it’s life that will reply  
> What’s the point in wanting to know everything?  
> Look around and see what you can see
> 
> I was told: I should listen to my dad  
> He never told me anything, when he made a pair  
> Mom told me: I’m too little to understand  
> And I grew up with a place to take
> 
> Who has the right, who has the right  
> Who has the right to do this?  
> To a child who truly believes  
> What the grown ups say
> 
> We spend out life saying ‘thank you’  
> Thank you to who, for what?  
> To make the rain and shine  
> For the children who were lied to
> 
> I was told that men are all the same  
> There are multiple gods, but just one single sun...
> 
> The song is 'Qui a le droit' by Patrick Bruel.  
> 
> 
> Okay so I would've added more but it's late and I'm depriving y'all of your content and it's already at 6,200+ words so I think that's enough. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Preferably don't die,
> 
> ~Swindle


	38. Ch 37-I'm my own fucking person, thank you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice in Peter's head grows louder and louder until Peter isn't so sure it's HYDRA anymore. While he struggles with figuring out what's going on inside his head, the Lizard is roaming around New York wreaking more havoc than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just edited the last chapter so instead of Bucky staying behind from the mission, it was Bruce. (Just a small detail. You don't have to go back and look).
> 
> WARNING: just a bit more swearing than normal, I guess.
> 
> OH ALSO the bold slanted text is the other 'voice' speaking in Russian cuz that's its first language.

**3rd POV**

To say Peter was frustrated with the police would be an understatement. There was no word accurate enough in the English language to describe his stubbornly irked mood. Realizing that the police gave zero fucks, Peter sought out the Lizard himself. Warmth be damned, if he has to crawl through every cold, damp, disgusting sewer tunnel in New York, then he will.

His next move was a true moment of 'fuck it, I'll do it myself'.

Peter dropped down into a sewer in the area the Lizard seemed to frequent the most. This huge cylindrical sewer had many smaller tunnels branching off, creating easy access to many different places. He could see why the Lizard liked it so much.

The bottom being a huge whirlpool of water was a little scary though.

Peter shot webs down each of the tunnels, connecting the lines all into the centre. That way, he might feel some vibrations before he hears or sees it– nothing would catch him off guard. He shivered in the cold and damp of the underground, almost stopping his quest because of how cold it was. Spider sat down on the giant web, attaching his camera to the corner and pulling out his spare phone to play Tetris.

A good nine minutes went by until the first vibration thrummed in his ears and rocked his body ever so slightly. Spider sat up and stared down the tunnel, finding nothing. But he kept his eyes planted on the end, Spidey Sense tickling his neck as a very early warning of what was yet to come.

As he began to crawl along the string of web, another line vibrated loudly, attracting his attention. Peter's Sense began to ring, needling his neck persistently. More and more lines started trembling, shaking at random integers and confusing the spandex-clad hero. Spider stayed on high alert as he frantically kept spinning, changing direction with each new pluck of web. He still couldn't see any source except some large shadows dancing on the sides of the tunnels.

When the shadows neared, he was relieved to find that they were just tiny lizards. The amount of them was quite concerning, however. Peter estimated about seventy hand-sized reptiles were making their way to the centre of the web and just... dropping into the whirlpool.

A few, however, didn't. They gathered together and walked into one tunnel as though they were robots obeying a command. Spider-Man followed silently behind them, hoping this would get him to Dr. Connors. With this many reptiles, the Lizard's gotta be around here somewhere.

When they suddenly stopped in their tracks, barely making it past the tunnel opening, Peter also paused. What were they doing? Why did they stop? Why aren't they going anywhere?

Spider looked around. He didn't _see_ anything suspicious. Nor did he smell or hear anything. The gurgling of yucky water was drowning everything out, blocking his senses. But his Spidey Sense was frantic from his head to his spine, pounding at his skull. The teen backed up, perplexed, and stopped abruptly when he heard something.

The _swooshing_ of something slippery against stone.

And this definitely wasn't water. Nor was it something as small as these lizards or himself. Peter searched for the noise again, finding it above and behind him. He whirled around and was immediately thrown to the centre of the web by the one and only Lizard himself.

The beast clawed at him and Peter tried his best to shove the awful-smelling hands away from his face. Snaps of his camera went off, blinding them both for a few seconds, but they didn't stop fighting. The same ringing of a communication device pounded at Peter's eardrums and he caught glimpses of some sort of earbud hooked up to the Lizard's ear. He tried to reach for it, but his arms were too short. A web was pulled, taking stone out of the walls with it, and hit Spider on the forearm. He lost his grips on the claws above his face and the Lizard was able to wrapped one slimy hand around his neck. He brought his other one up to his face.

"You stopped me once." The green humanoid roared out menacingly. The camera snapped loudly, messing up their vision once more. "You won't stop me again."

Peter desperately tugged at the web beside him--the one attached to a large and strong metal pipe--but he was weak from lack of air. He wheezed out, looking around in a haze for anything useful.

"I'm getting stronger every day!" The Lizard grinned triumphantly as he dragged his long, razor-sharp claws through Spider's chest. Skin ripped, blood pouring out and staining the spider-suit sickening shades of red-purple and crimson.

Peter gasped and grunted at the boiling pain, barely registering when the monster above him almost ripped his mask off. The ex-assassin used the last of his strength to kick his legs out and swing his arm up to clock him in the side of the head. It was a weak punch for him, but it was strong enough to throw his opponent off-balance. Both were sent tumbling down into the dark whirlpool, kicking and fighting even in the murky water.

Spider-Man kicked the Lizard in the face and swum away as fast as he could, not daring to look behind him. He squeezed himself through a thin grate and mentally breathed a sigh of relief when Connors couldn't get through.

Close to passing out or going numb from the freezing water, Peter washed up inside what he assumed to be some sort of water treatment plant. He convulsed, shivered, and spluttered, lungs aching and burning from lack of oxygen.

"Oh that sucked."

The teen doesn't remember when he got up. He doesn't remember crawling around in the sewer for awhile, stumbling and trembling from both pain and cold. He hardly remembers blood gushing out of his poorly webbed-up gashes and his breathing coming out in shaky, painful gasps. 

All he remembers is fighting the HYDRA side of his mind for control. A massive headache was the only thing that came out of that before he unwillingly succumbed to a sort-of unconscious state. But he wasn't unconscious. He was there, watching himself through a foggy mirror as though somebody else was controlling his body. The constant voice in the back of his head that was HYDRA had more or less taken the wheel and he was stuck in the hazy back seat. Again.

This wasn't new. It's been happening a lot after his encounters with the Lizard. Something about the beast triggered the HYDRA in him and he'd lose control. Peter would usually wake up at home in his bed or being patched up by someone with no memory of how he got there or what he'd been doing beforehand. The only difference between this and his old 'transformations' is that this didn't make him double over in pain unless he resisted.

This didn't just happen with Lizard encounters either. It sometimes happened when he got traumatic flashbacks too. He felt like his conscious control would be pushed back and the other, darker part of his mind would take the wheel happily. Whenever he woke up, he'd be in a new location somewhere in the tower. There'd be gaps in his memory and he'd be confused as to when time had passed and as to why people seemed the slightest bit more wary of him. People would say he had another one of his episodes so he shrugged it off as that without a second thought.

Right now, he's waking up in his bedroom. It's four in the morning and he has absolutely no clue how he got here. Peter groaned in annoyance, frustrated with his messed up memory. The last thing he clearly remembered was fighting with the Lizard and then washing up in some sewer plant.

Ah, so that was that smell.

There were much foggier bits in his memory too. Bits where he resurfaced for moments before being pushed back under. Gwen was stitching him up in her bedroom. Blurbs of unintelligible conversation passed between the two. Gwen looked scared. Not just for him, but _of_ him.

"Shit." The teen cursed out loud, worried about what he could've done in his altered state for Gwen to be scared of him.

He'd talk to her at school that day and make amends.

For now, a shower and change of bandages would be good.

Turns out, he'd been acting off when he'd been with her that night. His usual playful, happy, ambitious, and anxious mood had gone sour. He'd showed up at her window exhausted, completely unresponsive, quiet, and a little annoyed. Save for the few moments when he'd surfaced.

Peter apologized heavily and Gwen accepted it, mentioning he'd been freezing and on the verge of passing out from the cold. He made a quick mental note of that in case it was ever brought up again.

Spider walked to his Calculus class with Gwen when he heard the faint noise. Scraping. Claws scraping on tile to be exact. It was coming from the bathroom at the end of the hall behind him.

The wall suddenly burst open as though something had exploded. Screams filled the halls and deafened Peter's ears. But he was more concerned with what he came face-to-face with.

The Lizard. Quelle surprise.

Students shrieked all around him, hurrying to get out of the buildings as fast as possible. Peter shouted at Gwen above the noise to get out of there and she nodded slowly, jogging away.

Once everybody had left and the Lizard had zeroed in on him, the fight began. Spider-Man was shoved up against lockers and thrown through a wall, breaking one of the tables in a grade eleven science room. Dr. Connors held him to the ground with his foot and he struggled, eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon. He just barely threw the closest stool at him, but it didn't have much of an effect.

"Nowhere to hide, Peter." The Lizard sneered.

Parker looked around, still semi-trapped. His Spidey Sense was off the chart and he could hear an unintelligible, gruff voice in a comm device in the Lizard's ear. The HYDRA in his head was yelling at him to do better––to be better––but he refused to give up control, only worsening his headache.

He spotted his bag through the hole in the wall he made. His suit was in there! Peter webbed it towards him, the Lizard using that sliver of time to throw him through another wall. An explosive chemical was sent a few seconds later, surprising the teen while he removed his shirt.

"Those poor souls, lost and alone, I can save them. I can help them, Peter."

Peter's headache grew from fighting off the voice in his head. _Stop!_ He internally screamed. _Stop trying to take over. You can't do this to me anymore. I don't want you in my head anymore._

Parker threw his shoe at the Lizard and hit him over the head with two ceiling lights.

 ** _Ah, but you need me_.** The HYDRA voice whispered back in Russian, adorning a cheshire cat grin that he could vaguely see. One thing Peter hated about this evil internal voice of his is that its 'physical form' looks like a mixture of him and an agent from his childhood.

"You're not thinking straight, Doc." Peter said as he climbed onto the beast's back and restrained him. _I don't need you,_ He nearly hissed aloud. _You're just a voice in my head designed by the men to hurt me._ "Stop it! This isn't you."

The teen ducked to avoid his head getting ripped off and he tried but failed to web up the Walmart dinosaur. "Maybe we could talk this out?" All he got in response were angry roars.

Peter could mentally see the HYDRA voice grin even wider and let out a small chuckle, which he didn't think was possible for internal voices to do. **_I'm much more than a voice, Peter. And you won't be getting rid of me. Ever. I'll be here until the day you die._ (A/N: The bold slanted text is the other voice but they're also speaking Russian).**

Just like that, the headache stopped and he was suddenly pushed back into his head, forced away from control of his body.

Peter doesn't remember much except for the occasional mental curse from the HYDRA voice, who he presumed had taken over his fight with the Lizard. Once again, it felt like he was there but wasn't... _there_.

He didn't know what was going on, as per usual, but he could hear the internal thoughts of the in-control HYDRA persona. They were swearing and thinking up battle strategies, leading Peter to believe he was fighting the Lizard in his place. Why? He has no idea.

Spider didn't know how much time had passed, but he suddenly heard the other internal voice saying _**Gwen**_. Panicking, he screamed at the in-control guy, _Gwen!? Is she okay? Is she hurt? Let me take control!_

To his utter surprise, the other him didn't relent and he managed to surface with ease. When the world came in focus, he saw the Lizard was advancing on a petrified-looking Gwen with a large sports trophy clasped in her hands.

The Lizard roared and shot his hand out to impale her, but Spider-Man was much quicker. A sticky web attached to his arm, then another onto his back, his other arm, his body, his legs, etc... until he was cocooned in a thick layer of webs, rendering him temporarily immobile.

Peter threw the trophy out the window and pulled Gwen close. "I'm gonna throw you out the window now."

"What–?" The blond was tossed out like a rag doll and caught on a web a few feet above the ground, gasping and shrieking in shock.

"Uh oh," Peter put on a mocking voice when his scaly foe broke himself free from the web prison, "somebody's been a bad lizard."

From there on, he doesn't remember anything.

The teen blinked and he was suddenly limping towards the Tower through the alleyways, wincing from the pain in his assumingly sprained ankle. His right arm was scratched too, but it was shallow and barely bleeding.

"Oh what the heck?" Spider muttered in irritation as he peered around in hopes of seeing something familiar so he could get home. At least he had his backpack, even if one of the straps was missing.

After about ten minutes of swinging around, he spotted a familiar billboard with neon lights. It was advertising some cooking show that's been around for too long and Peter swears it's been there since before he started the superhero gig.

He tumbled into the common room, cursing in Russian when he landed on his bad ankle, and flopped onto the couch.

"Peter!" Harley's eyes widened when his new friend landed beside him and began to gather all the blankets up. "Where were you, man? We thought you got hurt! Everyone tried to call you like six times!"

Parker blinked and pulled out his now-cracked phone, seeing that yes, there were 26 missed calls and 39 missed text messages. "How long was I gone?"

"Almost an hour, don't you remember? You swung off in a hurry." The older teen looked at the vigilante funny.

"Tired." Peter replied lamely and shot a quick text to the group chat saying he was fine. He got up and headed towards the elevator. "I sprained my ankle so I'm gonna go fix it up."

Harley was surprised at his indifference towards the situation. "A-alrighty then. Need any help?"

There was no reply, as the curly-haired boy was already in the elevator.

A few hours later, after they had eaten food and Peter had silently caught up on all the new regarding the Lizard (including Gwen's interview with a news reporter live on the scene), the two boys were lounging in the common room.

Peter's talk with the voice in his head from earlier was continuing.

_Why do you think you can help me? All you do is take control and erase my memory. You know how many uneasy looks I get after that happens and I don't know what you or I did to deserve them?_

The embodiment of the voice sighed, his usual hostile and crude aura turning sad for just a moment. But he quickly tensed once more, acting like an adult berating a confused child, _**Peter, I'm here for a reason. I don't know how to tell you what reason, but I have a fucking job here. No, I'm not some made-up voice in your head. And no, I don't erase your damn memories. But I–**_

 _Then where are they!?_ He roared in his head, seething with anger. Harley looked over, concerned by his heavy breathing, and he muttered a pathetic 'I'm okay'. _Is your only purpose to tell me to be better? Tell me to kill myself? Tell me I'm worthless? Is that what you want?_ Peter felt a sensory overload coming on and he nearly whimpered. _If you can take my memories, then I have a right to know who you are._ The teen paused, _Are you me?_

 ** _For the last time,_ **the other voice hissed lowly but his voice began to escalate at an unbearable volume, **_I don't take your memories, I'm here for a good reason, and I'M NOT YOU, I'M MY OWN FUCKING PERSON–_**

 _"SHUT UP!"_ Peter yelled aloud by accident, startling Harley and causing him to fumble with the Xbox controller. The room went completely still. Spider felt a blush of shame and embarrassment creep over his face. _**Nice going.**_ Came a subdued but snickering voice in his head. At least his sensory overload had stopped.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I don't–" The ex-assassin stuttered.

Harley regained composure and paused his game. "It's, uh, fine...? But what just happened, if I can ask?"

"You know what? I don't really know." 

Peter fidgeted restlessly. Uncomfortably. As though he didn't feel okay in his own body. The HYDRA voice had gone quiet––unsure––which was very weird for it. The curly-haired boy was so used to hearing it (him?) 24/7 that this sudden, almost hurt, silence was off-putting.

A quiet Russian curse escape his lips and he fished out his phone. "I'm–" He sent a quick text to Dorothy, biting his lip as he waited for the reply. He only had to wait a minute thanks to the urgent tone of the message. "I'm going away for a few days."

"What?"

Peter replied to the text and stood up abruptly, still chewing his lips. The lack of noise in his head felt eerie. "I'm going to visit my godmother for a few days. I'll be back on Friday. Don't do anything stupid."

Harley snorted. "Uh-huh. Have fun."

"Thanks" Parker collected a bag of everything he'd need. He waited for Dorothy to say that she had arrived until he entered the elevator.

The next couple days went by relatively quietly. At first, the HYDRA voice was completely silent, just an ominous dark cloud in his conscience.

He didn't know why but he hated the calmness. Perhaps because it's always been there. Ever since he was twelve. Peter felt lonely without it even though it was nothing but mean to him.

Dorothy's place was always a safe haven and she constantly had to remind her godson that he didn't need to permission to stay. Her house was a serene escape from his hectic life. An anchor in a stormy sea.

There, he could spend relaxing evenings doing puzzles and crafts with his godmother. He was easily left to his own devices, but was also talked to if he wished.

 _Are you mad at me?_ Peter had reached out to the murky force in his head. There came no reply. _I'm sorry I yelled at you._ Silence. _I just needed answers. I still need answers._

 ** _You're a damaged boy, Peter._ **It eventually said.

Spider almost laughed out loud. _I know. What's your point?_

It rolled it's eyes not-so-nicely. _**My point is you're not exactly normal. Things have happened to you that most would claim are blatant lies. Things out of horror films. You're not normal.**_ It paused. **_We're not normal. We have to stick together._**

 _'We'? What do you mean by 'we'?_ Peter asked. No answer. _Hey–_ He realized he didn't have a name for this voice. _Hey voice, what do you mean by 'we'?_

It was silent for the rest of the night.

By Friday, Peter had contemplated all the other things that could be wrong with him. The only feasible explanation was PTSD and HYDRA, but he was starting to think that this is a little too far-fetched to be either.

His friends suspected something was wrong. So did Dorothy, who kept a sharp eye on him during his visit because she sensed something was out of sorts. There were a few comments about his iffy behaviour, but he shrugged it off as stress about the holidays.

(Speaking of, he had to do his shopping. Maybe Shuri could come visit another weekend).

On the car ride to the Compound, Peter had to talk to Harley about the problems that were eating him up inside.

"Something is wrong with me." He wrung his hands out and avoided looking upwards.

"What?" Harley laughed, confused.

"I don't know what, but something feels like it's wrong with me."

"Uh, okay. Wanna explain?"

**_Don't tell him._ **

_Why not?_

_**It's important. I can't be known.** _

_You'll have to explain. Otherwise I will tell him._

_**We can't be discovered.** _

_Again with the 'we'. I'm already discovered. I'm a human. People see me. You're just a part of my conscience. There's no 'we' here. You're the one not discovered._

_**I'm a human too. Don't you fucking see me?** _

_Yeah, you look a bit like me. But that's just a weird mental image._

**_You can see me because I'm real. I live and breathe like you. But I can't leave your stupid body._ **

_I don't understand. How can you be a person if you don't have a body?_

_**I do have a body. Not my own though. We share.** _

_You're not––_

"Peter? Still there, man?" Harley's startling voice broke him from his internal dialogue.

"Yeah, sorry. What's up?" The younger blinked a few times, momentarily forgetting where he was or what he was doing.

"You said something was wrong with you. You were gonna explain?"

"Oh. Yeah." _**He can't know. We won't be safe anymore.** _Peter didn't know what made him roll with the voice, but he trusted its judgement. "Don't worry. I think I'm a little carsick or something, dude. Doesn't happen a lot." He curled up on the seat for extra effect.

Harley's eyes narrowed to dubious slits. "Riiiiight. Okay, well, if anything really concerning happens just tell me or someone else."

Peter did a lot of Christmas research that night. He searched up gift ideas, decorations, traditions, and festivities. They all looked really fun and he began to get excited. He couldn't wait to spend the holidays with people he liked.

Speaking of...

He checked the time. Almost 2 AM.

The teen sighed sadly. He missed Soldier. He longed for a dance. It had been what? Five days? Peter knew he was being needy but being without Bucky for a few days can create a hole in his heart. The young ex-assassin picked up a photo of him and Bucky from off the bedside table. It was of when they were making Sam's birthday cake and they had frosting smeared all over themselves thanks to Tanya.

A small pout formed on his lips. Thankfully, he didn't have time to dwell on his depressing thoughts before there came a knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened inaudibly and awkward footsteps shuffled in.

"Can't sleep?"

"No." Harley shook his head, frustration in his tone. He looked tense and wired. "Nightmare."

Spider looked up from the photograph he was holding, drawing back the sheets and inviting Harley in. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Just felt like I was being taken away all over again." Keener-Stark slid under the covers, careful of Tanya, who was at the foot of the bed. "Thanks."

An idea popped into Peter's head and he got up.

"Where you goin'?"

"Just grabbing something." The vigilante went to the small children's section of his shelf and pulled out a tall, slim book. He returned to the bed. "This is my favourite kids book."

Harley propped himself up on an elbow to get a good look at the cover. "'Tell Me Something Happy Before I Go To Sleep'? Mm never heard of it."

"It always cheers me up when I feel sad or lonely. I want to read it to you."

"What?" He blinked.

"I think you'll like it. Maybe it'll cheer you up too."

"Alright. We can try that." The older boy leaned back.

Peter made sure they were both comfy and then started the book.

For those of you who don't know the story, it's about two bunnies. Willa and Willoughby are siblings. Willa can't sleep so she asks her brother, Willoughby to, 'Tell me something happy before I go to sleep'. So he told her about all the small things in life that were waiting for her. Like how her slippers were waiting to be worn in the morning and her toys were dreaming of the next day when they'd be played with. Willoughby told her that the sun was waiting for her to go to sleep so it could come out, and that's why she needed to go to bed so badly. He tells her that when the morning wakes her up, he'll still be there for her. Willa goes to sleep happy that night.

When it was over, Harley had a sad smile on his face. The book reminded him of him and his sister, Carly, when they were younger. He would always be there for her and remind her that there were good things to come if she could get through today.

To Peter, it reminded him of himself and Bucky. Bucky who promised him the world, not knowing that just him there was enough. When he read it, he was taken back to those moments of sunlight in an all-consuming abyss.

"I can see why it's your favourite." Harley whispered. "I think it's my favourite too, now."

Peter grinned and hugged the book to his chest, soaking up all the bittersweet joy he gets out of it. He leaned over and clicked his lamp off, looking at the picture of him and Bucky one more time. "Goodnight, Harley."

"G'night, Peter."

Saturday afternoon they got a text saying the other Avengers would be home at around 7pm if their meeting didn't last too long. Peter smiled nervously but also giddily. He was excited to see Bu– everyone again but he was nervous about their reaction to their early Christmas gift.

Instead of over-thinking it, he got busy preparing dinner. He was going to make beef stew and dumplings all on his own so he started early. It would take him around 3 and a half hours but it wasn't quite four o'clock yet so he had the time. When Rhodey, Vision, and even _Harley_ ––who is a terrible cook––asked for help, he just shooed them out of the kitchen, insisting he could do this.

"Peter, somethin's been off about you lately. I mean, I know you love cooking and stuff but your behaviour has been a bit... erratic lately. You seem frantic but distracted. An' I know I don't know you well but is something wrong?" Harley asked, plucking grapes from his bowl and popping them into his mouth. Tanya was meowing loudly beside him, demanding grapes that the teens already knew she didn't like.

Peter frowned. Was the voice changing him? No, it couldn't be. It's always been there. Maybe not this vocal or this controlling since HYDRA, but it's still always been there.

**_Don't tell him._ **

_Yeah, yeah, I know. But why exactly? I know we'll be discovered but we're safe, aren't we?_

_**They'll lock you back up for having 'voices in your head'. You don't want to be caged again, do you?** _

_No._ Peter nearly shuddered at the thought of being trapped with no escape again.

_**Didn't think so. And neither do I. So we have to stay silent or it's game over for us.** _

Spider didn't know how to respond to that without sounding rude so he stayed quiet, hoping the voice understood.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with me." Peter lied in a delicate voice.

Harley looked skeptical but didn't push it. "Just– I'm here to talk if you need it. 'S the least I can do."

"Thanks." He nodded and resumed adding herbs to the pot.

_Hey, voice?_

_**What is it?** _

_What if they understand?_

_**What?** _

_I mean think about it. I know I'm not normal. That's very obvious. But they've all been so accepting of my trauma and if you're a side effect of that then they would be understanding, right?_

**You would think.** The voice basically snarled out in disgust. **_People like us don't have a place in society. We won't be accepted, no matter how much you think we will. Not everybody is as they seem and you're naïve to think so, child._**

Peter scrunched his face up at the voice's comments and shook his head to clear some unwanted thoughts. "FRIDAY, play some Christmas music please."

The beginning of Bobby Helms' _Jingle Bell Rock_ began to flow through the room and Peter couldn't help but move his head to the beat.

Harley absentmindedly began to sing along, his deep pitch sounding a bit like Frank Sinatra but lower and much more rusty. Spider made a mental comment that if he practiced a bit, he could sound really amazing.

"I didn't know you could sing."

The dirty-blond snapped his mouth shut. "I don't do it a lot 'cause I'm not very good. Is it bothering you?"

Peter shook his head insistently and sifted through the drawers for a ladle. "No, don't stop. I like it. It sounds nice. And I bet if you practiced some more, you would sound perfect."

Harley blushed and hid his face in the phone, not used to receiving compliments. He resumed his quiet singing and soon had Peter joining in, who sounded like the exact opposite of him. High-pitched, silky, and siren-like. His singing was naturally mesmerizing and Harley felt blessed to be one of two people who got to hear it.

The Avengers, exhausted, bruised, and starving, stumbled their way out of the elevator. The mission had been busy and their post-mission interview had been excruciatingly long. All they wanted to do was eat then sleep for fourteen hours.

When they walked down the long glass hall to the kitchen from the elevator, they noticed music coming from the kitchen. Aretha Franklin's _Winter Wonderland_ was being played while two people sang along with it–– one low and rough, the other high and velvety.

They peered around the corner–––staying in the shadow of the hall––and saw Harley and Peter jamming out to Christmas tunes, which was weird considering they didn't particularly like each other. The two boys were dancing around and setting the table for supper, huge grins on their faces.

Rhodey, who was at the entrance leading to the bedrooms––across from the one the Avengers were standing in right now––made a 'shushing' motion with his finger over his lips.

The song ended far too soon for indulgence but the Avengers couldn't help but clap. Peter's head whipped around, a panicky look on his face. He relaxed only slightly when he recognized the people at the entrance of the hall. However a bright blush creeped its way onto his face. Harley looked over too, a blush also beginning to tint his face.

"W-welcome home." Spider mumbled his greeting.

"The singing was amazing, you two." Natasha complimented with a gentle smile and walked forward.

Words of agreement and compliments passed over the group, creating even larger blushes on the boys' faces.

"I didn't know either of you could sing." Clint remarked. "Did you always know how to do that?"

Peter shrugged. "Dunno. I just do it when I'm alone."

"I sing when I play guitar sometimes." Harley replied, acting more confident at the impressed comments. "But not in front of crowds."

"What's all this?" Tony asked, looking at the table chock-full of food.

"Oh, um, we wanted to make dinner. Figured you'd all be hungry when you got home, unless you've already eaten, of course." Peter rushed the last bit, hands fiddling with the strings of his sweater.

"By 'we', he means 'I'. I did nothing at all. He didn't even let me in the kitchen!" Harley gestured to his friend with a fake-offended look in his eyes.

Spider crossed his arms. "You would just burn it down."

Harley paused, then whispered. "Is it even possible to burn down this kitchen?"

"Are– are you speaking from experience?" The brunette whispered back, intrigued.

"I mean, no, but do you think it's possible?"

"It shouldn't be possible." Tony cleared up, shooting a look at the conspiring teens. "I won't stop you from trying though."

Harley and Peter gave each other this curiously knowing look but didn't say anything else.

"I'm starved. Can we eat?" Wanda asked, sitting down at the table and eyeing the enormous pots of stew.

Steve was about to agree but he stopped in his tracks. "Something feels different in here."

"What do you– Oh." Peter cut himself off when he realized what the man was referring to.

Sam walked over to the wall. "I have a terrible memory but I'm pretty sure these weren't here before." He gestured to the photographs hanging up.

"No, these definitely weren't here before." Romanoff squinted, staring straight ahead of her where she saw a photo of herself and Clint in a heated game of tic tac toe. In the picture, the two were being cheered on by Steve, the twins, and Thor. The ex-assassin had a vague idea of when that happened.

"Did you guys hang these up?" Pietro asked quietly, turning to the boys whilst pointing at a photo.

"Uh... Merry early Christmas present?" Peter said sheepishly at the same time Harley said,

"Surprise?" and did awkward jazz hands. 

"You did all this?" Tony asked, still dumbfounded.

The previously empty and boring walls of the common room and halls were now decorated neatly with photos of the Avengers over time. Some of the most recent ones even included Peter and Shuri. The pictures made the place feel lighter in a way. It was more domestic now. Less of an industrial building and more of a home.

"Shuri helped. We got it done last weekend. The tower is decorated too." Spider shifted his weight, not really knowing what to do or say or what anyone was thinking. Did they hate it? They probably hated it. They should just start taking it down right now.

Bucky, ever-aware of how he's feeling, spoke up on behalf of the astonished group. "They're really nice. Thank you."

Peter and Harley beamed excitedly and high-fived.

Peter woke up, gasping and crying, choking on his own tears. Snippets of his nightmare raced through his head in a continuous loop until he was too confused to realize where he was. Images of blood-soaked cement floors and bubbling corpses filled his vision as the HYDRA voice screamed at him. What it was saying, he hadn't a clue. It was like listening to terrible radio static, but he could tell whatever he was screaming was not nice.

Spider coughed loudly, wiping tears away despite them doing nothing to clear his vision. The lines between nightmare and reality were far too blurred for him to make sense of anything.

A door opened and clicked shut somewhere near him.

"Peter?"

 _Pe **te** r **?** **I'm P** eter, rig **ht? I** don't **really feel** like **P** ete **r. N** o, I a **m** Peter. **Or...**_ He whimpered, curling up in a ball and letting the tears pour.

"Peter, can you hear me?"

Whoever was in control answered with a nod.

"Can you see me?"

He blinked open his eyes, looking around a bit. When things were still blurry, he forced himself to focus on what he could feel and hear, hoping it'd make more sense. Soft blankets and the steady beating of a heart greeted him. As he centred more on that, the world around him changed too. His breathing eased up and he could see the man sitting beside him.

"I can s-see you," He whispered, hiccoughing. The boy began to feel more like himself again and he inched towards Bucky. "Soldier."

"Do you know where you are?"

"M-my bedroom. In the c-compound."

"Good." The ex-assassin beside him smiled softly. "Can I touch you?"

Peter nodded. "Mhm." 

He allowed himself to be easily picked up and placed into Bucky's lap. Soldier grabbed the mess of blankets and pulled them over the two, carefully hugging the teen to his chest.

"I missed you." Spider confessed, curling up tighter and burying his head into the broad chest he sat against. It was funny how tiny he was compared to the super soldier. How easily he fit into his lap.

The honey-eyed vigilante sniffed back tears and collected himself enough to hold a coherent conversation.

"I missed you too, kid. Barely got time to talk earlier."

"You guys were all so tired, didn't want to stop you from going to sleep."

Bucky hummed and brushed back a loose curl shadowing the teen's one visible eye. "What's on your mind? Heard you've been a bit stressed lately?"

Peter began to sob. It was all to much.

Tears flowed freely down his face. This was one of the only places in the world he felt comfortable sobbing so openly. It was so warm and safe here. And it smelled like home.

He didn't feel pressured or stepped on by the stupid voice in his head. He didn't feel lost from lack of memories even though that was still a major problem. He didn't feel like he was putting everyone he was close to in danger when he wasn't in control of his own body.

He just felt like he was finally home. The one place the voice couldn't ruin for him.

"I just m-m-missed you a-and the– the Lizard's a-attacked me a-at school! H-he gave me another scar and I–I don't know what he w-wants. I'm just trying to h-help him. A-and there's this v–" _**Peter.** _It warned harshly. But Peter couldn't give a shit anymore. This voice had been there for years and now it was more vocal than ever. The last week had been hell, especially without Bucky or even Natasha or Tony to turn to. He was done dealing with this voice.

 _You're not the boss of me._ Spider hissed internally. _And I'm done with you._

"Th-there's this voice in my head that w-won't stop bothering me and I don't know what to do anymore 'c-cause it won't g-go away." Peter didn't know why he felt so embarrassed to say it out loud. Maybe because this wasn't normal or because he's used to dealing with his problems on his own instead of seeking help.

"There's a voice?" Bucky echoed, his brow scrunching together in confusion. He slowly moved Peter to sit and face him, though the boy kept his head down out of embarrassment. Soldier gently tilted the younger's head up to face him. His heart was beating fast and the warm, fluttery feeling in his stomach made him feel almost like he was melting.

Peter nodded, heart also speeding up a smidge and tears stopping, "It's there a lot. Even if it doesn't talk to me, I can feel it there. It's like a dark cloud in my head. I don't know how to get rid of it. I could probably talk to it now if I wanted."

Bucky grew weary. Voices in heads weren't normal. There shouldn't be a voice to talk to unless you're just talking to yourself. "Are you sure you're not just talking to yourself?"

 _ **What did I say?** _The voice was smug but scared at the same time, an edge to its tone.

"No, I'm not talking to myself!" Peter exclaimed loudly, offended. "I would know if I were. This voice has been in my head since I think some time before the chip was put in. It sounds different from me. Older, even. It's been talking to me much more this past week."

There was contemplative silence until Spider spoke up again. "I thought it was just after-effects of HYDRA. PTSD and stuff, y'know? I've been thinking it's just the Men's voice resonating with me after all this time. Haunting me. But it– that label never felt accurate." The teen brought the blankets closer and exhaled deeply, preparing himself for an answer he knew he didn't want to receive. "You don't have a HYDRA voice, do you?"

Bucky slowly shook his head, hair coming loose from his messy bun and framing his face. He was terrified of what his answer would do to his friend. "No."

Peter dropped his head between his knees and wept.

What was wrong with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo I'm not dead.
> 
> God, I'm so, so sorry I was gone for so long. If you haven't already, check out my conversations page for the reason. But to sum it up: busy two weeks, stressful, tired, no time, not a priority.
> 
> But I am back. I will warn you though, I have science and math next quadmester so I'll probably have slow chapters again since those two subjects together will be absolute hell.
> 
> Anyways, it's almost one am. I'm tired. I have school tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for your incredible patience. I don't deserve it.
> 
> ~Swindle <3
> 
> (Wear a mask and drink water!!!!)


	39. Ch 38-Baby's first Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had absolutely no clue what I was gonna do in this chapter (even with my plot already planned out) so I'm sorry if it's absolute crap and a fucking mess (it will be). Bear with me here.

**3rd POV**

Bucky was troubled, to say the very least. 

The evening before, Peter had sobbed about a voice in his head– HYDRA, he believed.

When Bucky told his friend that he did not have any crude voices in his head, Spider had only wailed louder.

Bucky didn't really understand. A voice that wasn't his own? What does that mean? Was he being possessed? And since Peter was in no condition to talk about it––as he was going through an onslaught of panic and anxiety attacks––Bucky had to go to the only person that might know what was going on.

"Bruce." Soldier's smooth, levelled voice announced his silent presence.

The doctor jumped––startled––and turned around. "Bucky. How can I help?"

Bucky double-checked that nobody else was in the lab. "I think there's somethin' else wrong with Peter."

"Something else wrong with Peter?" Banner's brows creased with concern and curiosity. He pulled up two chairs and sat down. "Come, sit."

The (technically) older man strode over and sat down. "Can you keep a secret? Peter doesn't know I'm doin' this but he wasn't in good condition last night."

Bruce nodded very seriously. "Of course. This will be between us until you want to share with others."

Bucky dragged out a deep sigh. "Peter was talkin' about a voice in his head last night. Somethin' HYDRA might've left behind with the chip, maybe? He was cryin' lots and had a few seconds of his episodes." It pained the ex-assassin to think of what had happened the previous night. Peter's form had looked so small and broken, just like when they first found him at the base. "Asked me if I had a voice too. I don't. Think he felt worse after that."

Bruce's eyes turned cloudy with worry, his expression looking increasingly but internally frantic by the second. You could tell he was trying to keep his professional and calm facade. "Did he– Did he say anything else?"

"He said he could talk to the voice if he wanted. And that it was always there, even when it wasn't talkin' to him. He could sorta feel it in the back of his head." Bucky scrunched his face up a little. "Peter thinks it's been there since the time before the chip was put in. But not by a lot."

Bruce nodded silently and got up, haphazardly rummaging through the different drawers in the lab. He was searching for something. "Anything else?"

"Think he just hates the voice. Said it's been bothering him and being not-so-nice sometimes. He wants to get rid of it but doesn't know how."

Dr. Banner pulled a small business card out of a stack of papers. "Aha! Here it is." The man walked back to where Barnes was sitting. "I'm afraid I don't have much knowledge in the field of psychology. I never studied it aside from to control my anger. However, I think I know someone who could help."

Bucky quirked a brow, urging him to continue.

Bruce handed him the card. It was Dorothy's business card.

**_Psychologist of 9 years_ **

It read, printed out in the neat Helvetica font.

"I'm not a psychologist." Bruce repeats. "But Ms. Matthews is, and if you think it's in Peter's best nature to talk to her about it, then she's the person we should turn to. Tony too, he's got half guardianship over Peter, so he's also responsible for his well-being. I know they're really close."

"I don't think Peter will happy when he realizes I told somebody."

Dr. Banner sat down and rans his fingers through his hair. "We don't _have_ to tell somebody. Like I said, this isn't my choice. Peter trusted you with this information because you're closest to him. It might hurt him to tell somebody, yes, but it will also help him sort this 'voice' out. In the long run, I think we'd be doing the right thing."

Bucky looked down at the card, then back up at Bruce, meeting the Doctor's kind eyes. "Thank you." He muttered and got up, heading to the door.

"Don't worry about making a decision now, but if Peter gets any worse, please come talk to me."

Sergeant Barnes nodded and left without another word.

Peter lay on the couch in Stark's lab, the faint sound of clinking metal and hard rock being drowned out by his jumble of thoughts.

The cacophony of thoughts in his head was beginning to grow too loud for him to function properly. He needed some sort of distraction. Something that wasn't the stress of school, the expectations of being Spider-Man, the frustrating voice in his head, his unusual warmth towards Bucky, and the constant loudness of the lab. Peter needed something that made him feel peaceful and happy. 

Just for his own pleasure. 

Alone in his head.

Even only for a few minutes.

Something to escape this mental hell hole.

He yawned tiredly and searched desperately for something he could do to relax himself from all the shit happening to him right now. The seconds ticked by slowly, in sync with the sluggish speed of his ideas.

Peter felt hollowed and weighed down at once. As though his mental baggage was pressing in on him but he was too tired to care.

The teen hummed softly to whatever song was playing in the background. Normally, he'd be perfectly happy now that the voice in his head was giving him another break, but the ex-assassin had too much on his mind to remotely rejoice.

He was tired.

Spider yawned again and his halfhearted hums turned into to quiet singing, words not going unnoticed by the other three people in the room. The song had changed, now something from Queen– less hard rock and much easier to sing along to without murdering his vocal cords.

A slow smile creeped its way onto Peter's face and he suddenly felt more at ease. His body visibly sank into the leather and his face seemed to light up. The tune he sang felt woven into his soul like a story. Peter sang with so much emotion, even if he wasn't trying.

When it was over, Tony, Bruce, and Harley clapped.

Tony whistled. "Great job, kid."

Peter blushed profusely and shifted onto his side to look at them. "Th-thanks."

"Really, you could be in a musical or somethin' with that voice!" Harley encouraged with a cheeky grin.

"You think so?" The younger teen had to stop himself from turtle-necking into his sweater because of how red his face was.

Keener-Stark nodded. "You should do something with you voice! People would love to hear it, ya know."

"Don't do it if you're not comfortable." Bruce commented gently, toning Harley's enthusiasm down a notch. "But I do agree with Harley. Your voice is beautiful, Peter. If you're ever comfortable sharing it with others, you should."

"Brucie Bear is right." Tony's eyes flicked over at the fellow scientist and Peter for a split-second, then went back down to whatever he was doing. It sounded like he was going to say more, but nothing else came out of his mouth.

"Thanks guys." The bright blush tainting his cheeks had faded to a soft, glowing pink.

The concept of sharing his voice with an audience stuck with him for a while. It teased him from the back of his head, nagging day in and day out. It never left his head. Even when he was shopping for Christmas trees in the freezing cold and snow, laughing about how everyone was arguing over which tree was 'thicker'. Or when he was giddily placing the star at the top of the decorated tree with Harley's help– the boys seated on Steve and Bucky's shoulders. Not even when him and Clint were decorating and the man accidentally got tangled up in lights, complaining ridiculously when he couldn't break free. (Peter had laughed until he was crying. Neither of them knew how that had happened).

However the idea that settled it all hit him one particularly stressful afternoon filled with homework and the beginnings of a sensory overload. Tears from being overwhelmed blurred his vision and he felt a pressing voice from the back of his head. Not the HYDRA one though. This one felt more... childish. It was much gentler but sort of excited, in a way.

Peter was scribbling numbers in short bursts, the scratching of his pencil clawing at his head, when everything happened at once.

He _could_ share his music with an audience. There were people doing it everyday on YouTube! All he needed was an account and some equipment and then he could do what he wanted. Sing whatever he felt like singing!

Spider grinned brightly and carefully made his way out of the dark room, hissing at the bright lights greeting him in the hallway. It was freezing only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but Peter didn't care. He ran on light feet, swiftly making his way to Mr. Stark's lab.

The door opened for him and he almost crumpled with the volume of music, even though it had already been turned down plenty for him. Peter shook his head and let out a string of foreign curses, whimpering slightly.

"FRI, turn the music off." Tony asked quietly, knowing exactly what was happening.

Footsteps thudded over and the voice of Steve spoke softly from beside him. "Peter, what are you doing out here? You should be resting in your room. Are you okay?"

Peter shut his eyes tight for a few seconds, gathering himself enough to stand up. "'M okay." A huge smile spread onto his face when he remembered what he was there for. "Mr. Stark, I found a way to sing and show people!"

"Oh?" Tony chuckled. "You came all this way to tell me?"

"Mhm!" He nodded his head with childish enthusiasm and launched into his idea, using large hand gestures to articulate. "I could make a YouTube channel and post music there! Not my own music, prolly jus' covers, but music! Then lots of people could see it but they wouldn't be watching me in person! A-an' I could use the extra bedrooms 'cause then I wouldn't be bugging anyone."

Steve and Tony laughed, eyes fond. Stark cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "And do you have all the equipment for this YouTube plan of yours?"

Peter's eyes widened impossibly wider and his lips turned down in a pout, face lowering towards the ground. He shook his head, wanting to answer, but for some reason, a childish presence in his head wouldn't let him. Instead, he a looked a little bit like a kid getting told that taking a toy from another child is not accepted.

Steve and Tony shared a look of understanding, a single idea passing between the two.

Rogers placed a caring hand on Spider's shoulder, causing the younger to look up at him, sad look still there. "It's okay, Peter, you'll be able to do that in the future. But until Christmas, you'll probably be too busy with school to start anything anyways, so don't feel bad. You'll get to sing for people eventually."

Peter nodded and sniffled, not realizing he had been on the verge of tears over something so stupid. _Why am I so sad about this? It's just music. It can wait._

But at the same time, another starry-eyed part of himself was devastated. _No, no, no, no, no! I wanna sing! Please lemme sing?_

"Thanks." He said simply and left the lab.

The last things he heard before the doors shut were,

_"Was he acting different or is that just me?"_

_"No, he was acting a bit different. Kinda like–"_

As the night went on and finishing homework felt unachievable, Peter was certain another voice had joined his head. This one looked faintly younger and seemed to be unhappy– constantly bringing up the music thing and wanting to take control multiple times.

All Peter could do was try to drown them out with music and continue on with his Spanish grammar worksheets.

It was around 2 AM and Peter had yet to complete his homework. His sensory overload had died down minutes earlier, as well as the pressing childish voice retreating. He could still vaguely feel them in the back of his head though.

Spider sighed and leaned back in his chair, dragging his hands down his face and rubbing his eyes. The teen felt like getting out of his room. It had grown stuffy and caging–– having to sit in a very specific position for hours to avoid a sensory overload.

Peter opened up his phone and scrolled through his contacts for someone he could talk to.

**Nedward**

No. Ned was his best friend, but not someone who enjoyed being awake this late. Especially when it involved getting out of bed.

**Gf 💕**

He was interested in doing 'friend' things. Not 'girlfriend' things. She'd be asleep anyways.

**Texan Walmart Harley Quinn**

Harley was indeed a very fun person to be around and they had grown close the past couple weeks. But they weren't close enough to go running piggy-backed through a McDonald's drive thru at 2 AM ordering fries.

**Shoe**

Across the world.

**Baddest Bitch Around**

Definitely would murder him for waking her up at this hour. If she even slept, that is. He wouldn't risk it either way.

**Balderdash**

Harry. Of course it was Harry. Harry was his ride-or-die friend. Not his best friend, but the only guy who would happily trudge through the snow in Central Park at 2 AM to take a pretty photo of the trees and lit-up buildings. A guy who, like him, had never had parents, or been grounded, or had a bedtime. Someone who did whatever he wanted because he was alone and not confined by his parents.

Peter knew the guy would be down to do whatever, so he got on two pairs of pants, a couple sweaters, some heavy winter gear, and swung off to Harry's mansion.

**[Peter Pan]**

**_you awake?_ **

**[Balderdash]**

**_Sadly_ **

**[Peter Pan]**

**_how does mcdonalds sound?_ **

Harry grinned at his phone, squashing the feelings of dread in his stomach and internally cursing at himself.

**[Balderdash]**

**_Sure, but we're going to the 24/7 art shop too._ **

**[Peter Pan]**

**_ugh fine >:p_ **

**_be there in fifteen_ **

I'm happy to inform you that Peter felt much better the next morning.

The last week of school went by in a stressful, emotional, and anxiety-ridden blur.

Ned had accidentally blurted out that Peter knows Spider-Man during a surprise spare period they had. That caught the attention of Flash, who then invited them and their pal _Spider-Man_ to his Christmas party.

Bad idea. 

Peter had a panic attack in a tree that hung over his yard and almost threw up in his pool. Not to mention since Spider-Man didn't show up, he'd have to deal with an increased amount of taunts when school started after the break. He felt bad for abandoning his friends with no explanation, but a sudden Discord call with him almost crying and hyperventilating had them respectfully staying quiet about the matter.

The other days were spent fighting with his own mind. Arguments between himself and the HYDRA voice while trying to figure whatever the fuck the childish voice was there for. His days as Spider-Man diminished and Queens was taking notice. Tony had to make an excuse that Spider-Man was currently busy with family and the holidays and that he would return after. That seemed to calm them down.

Peter was acutely aware of the looks Bucky, Tony, Bruce, and sometimes Steve gave each other. The teen suspected they also knew something, seeing as he told Bucky. However he was too mentally exhausted to put much thought into it. They hadn't kicked him out or punished him so he was fine, right? (The HYDRA voice kept trying to convince him that no, it was not fine).

Christmas eve rolled around quite quickly and it ended up being a relatively peaceful day. They had a marathon of Christmas movies, ate crêpes for brunch, had half the cookies they baked and stored a week earlier for this, and spent an all-around fun day together.

Peter fully relaxed for the first time in nearly a month. He laxly braided Loki's long jet-black locks, weaving bits of flower and golden thread in to make it more beautiful. Bucky, who was sitting beside him, was rubbing his back gently to keep him grounded. It was working, thank God. He felt anchored and present in the world. Not inside his own head, for once. _Home Alone_ played on the TV while the comforting sounds of Clint, Natasha, and Sam throwing popcorn at each other eased Peter's anxieties. It made him purr happily, in turn making the others happy.

He felt the small nudge of the happy childish voice in his mind and for once, he didn't fight against it. He was still in control, but the childish presence was there with him. It made him ecstatic, for some weird reason.

That night, Dorothy came bearing gifts and food for the massive supper they had.

The group laughed and talked at the dinner table. Playful jabs and epic tales passed over the group. Stories of ancient Asgard and the first Black Panther excited the broken family of heroes, gods, and teenagers.

"What about you, Mr. Stark? What traditions did you used to have?" Harley asked with a big grin after hearing about what Bucky and Steve used to do over the Christmas holidays.

"Me?" Tony pointed a finger at himself and thought for a moment. "Well I used to skate in Central Park with Rhodey on Christmas Eve."

"And by 'skate', he means he used to fall a lot and beg for help to get up off the ice." Rhodey inputted with a mischievous smirk.

Stark gasped in mock-offense. "That is a false accusation!"

"He still does." Rhodey muttered, just barely audible by the whole group, over his cup of wine.

Tony pouted. "I feel so attacked right now."

Laughter erupted around the room. 

When it died down, Harley spoke up, face bright and curious. "Oh! Can we go skating? _Please?_ I haven't gone in forever."

"I'd like to go too. It's been a while." Natasha commented.

"Ooh yes please!" Wanda elbowed Pietro and the twins gave each other lively grins.

Peter made a sudden noise and quickly swallowed his beans, eyes lighting up. "I've never gone skating before. Can we really go?"

"You've never been skating before?" Harley nearly shrieked.

Spider shook his head, humming. "Mm-nm. Heard it's pretty hard though."

"I haven't either." Shuri spoke up, confused as to what the big deal was.

Keener-Stark spluttered, unable to find the right words. He eventually snapped his mouth shut and resumed a normal conversation. "Yeah it's hard at first. But you have the balance thing, right? You'll be fine."

"I guess we're going skating after dinner then." Tony finalized.

An hour later, they were getting out of their cars and walking up to the place beside the rink where you could rent skates.

Thor, Loki, Peter, and Shuri were curiously approaching the stands full of rentable skates, hot chocolate, and food vendors. Peter tapped the ice with his foot, sliding around and feeling that it was mostly smooth with only a few bumps.

"Peter!" Bucky's voice called, one arm holding up a pair of worn-down hockey skates. "Come get your skates."

Spider hurried over with an eager smile.

"I'll help you put them on."

They went and sat where Thor and Shuri were getting help with their skates. Loki was standing a few feet away, arms out straight to help balance on the 'foot daggers'–– as he called them. He didn't seem too pleased by the logistics of the footwear. And was especially not pleased by Clint, who laughed teasingly at him as he walked by perfectly in his own pair of skates.

"You're good to go." Bucky snapped Peter out of his observations.

"Thank you!" The teen was about to launch himself onto his feet when Barnes put a hand against his shoulder.

"Woah, woah, woah. Go slowly. Don't want you fallin', powers and all." He chided softly and sat down to put his own skates on.

Peter pouted but complied, ascending at a slower pace. He just about stumbled, but was caught on the arm by Bucky, who gave a small smirk that lasted barely a second. 

The teen filtered through his senses, calculating what was going on and the best way to go about things. Looking over at the rink, he could see Harley and the twins speeding down the ice with such skill and ease that it almost made him sick. They wove through the crowds of people like the sleek ribbons of a dancer. Peter's eyes skimmed and landed on Tony, who was struggling significantly and cursing at an amused Rhodey.

The doe-eyed teen felt a bit better at his lack of experience.

"Aren't you gonna go out on the ice?" Bucky asked, finishing up with his second skate.

"'M not sure how." Spider turned to him, suddenly feeling nervous about what he was about to do. He took an experimental step to the side, exhaling in relief when he found out that it really wasn't that hard. Just very disconcerting. "Besides, I thought I'd wait for you."

"Aw, I'm flattered." Bucky cooed, earning a light shove. He held out his glove-clad hand and Peter took it, hiding his blush in his huge yellow scarf.

They walked to the ice together without any problems, but Peter hesitated when he had to get onto the actual ice part.

"I'm not sure about this, Soldier." He swallowed nervously. Yes, he was good at balancing, but he'd never ran around on a sheet of ice relying solely on blades to keep him standing.

"Look at Loki." The man nodded to the mischievous God. "He's never skated before either and he's doing fine. Even without balancing super powers. You'll be fine."

Parker's eyes followed Loki, who was looking quite proud of himself for being able to skate half the rink in just over a minute. He could faintly hear Natasha complimenting him on his natural skills.

"Okay." Spider breathed and stared down at his feet. "I got this."

Gripping onto Bucky's hand tight, Peter stepped onto the ice, wobbling a little but straightening himself out before disaster. Encouragements from the man in front of him went unnoticed due to his fixation on pushing forward.

"One foot in front of the other." Bucky reassured subconsciously, to which the younger repeated to himself to gain confidence.

Peter took a step. Then another. And another. He took more and more, not gaining in speed but gaining in confidence. His starry honey eyes met Bucky's gentle stormy ones.

"I'm doing it!"

"You are! Good job, kid."

Peter beamed at the praise, his smile bright as the street lamps and lanterns stood around the rink.

They held hands again and Soldier guided Spider around the rink a few laps, allowing him to adjust to the way skating works. Parker only fell twice, which was amazing for a first time. (Thanks, super powers).

Peter watched in fascination as Bucky did this really quick twist motion where he was suddenly skating backwards. The older ex-assassin snaked through the crowd, head over his shoulder so he didn't hit anyone. He caught up with Steve, who was laughing at Thor's complete inability to get back up after he fell on the ice once.

About twenty minutes in and Peter was nervously skating up to Tony. The billionaire had already entirely given up on skating and was standing by the hot chocolate vendors with Bruce.

"Hey, kid. Want some hot chocolate?" Stark greeted when he took notice of the teenager nearing.

"Mm that sounds tempting." Peter thought about how cold it was, but shook his head. "But no thanks. I have a-a different request to make."

The man lowered his cup as a sign of his attention. "Oh? Well, lemme hear it."

"Do you think... maybe... uh–" He stuttered, pulling at the ends of his scarf. "DoyouthinkmaybeHarrycouldcomeskatingwithus?"

"What? I don't think I heard that right." Tony cupped a hand behind his ear and leaned forward. "You want to invite Harry to skate with us?"

"Mhm." Peter nodded shyly. Mr. Stark still didn't get along with Harry. He claimed something was 'off' about the kid, but Peter would always snort and say he was paranoid by the competition.

Tony sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. He had a moral choice here. Invite Harry to come skating with them, making Peter's first ever Christmas and Harry's first Christmas without anybody even better (while suffering the feelings the kid gave him). Or, he could not invite Harry, disappoint Peter, and have to deal with the guilt of not being able to make Peter's first Christmas just a little bit better by sacrificing a couple hours of his life.

There was no choice here.

"Alright. Invite him." Stark waved off. He couldn't fight the smile creeping onto his face when he saw Peter fumble excitedly with his phone.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stark!" Peter squawked out, hugging his mentor and semi-rushing away on wobbly legs.

Half an hour later, a cheery Harry was stepping onto the ice looking like he was about to cry from joy. Well, nobody else but Peter could tell that he was that happy, since he always looked a little edgy. But trust me on this one, he was overjoyed.

After greeting Peter, he sped over to Tony, thanking the man and handing him a gift. With raised eyebrows, Stark pulled the ribbon of the package and peeked inside the small box. Something gleeful flashed momentarily in his eyes and eagerly pulled out an extremely expensive and delicate wristwatch.

"Merry Christmas, Stark." Osborn bowed as a sort of thanks to him. "It's not much but it's all I could find on such sort notice."

"Thanks, Osborn." Tony returned, voice much cooler than his mood.

Harry nodded and skated away towards the waiting Peter.

"What are you looking at?" The teen asked as he approached his friend.

"Hm?" Before Harry could repeat himself, Peter's brain caught up. "Oh. Just the lights and the trees. It looks beautiful, doesn't it?"

Harry looked around them. He took a deep breath of crisp, cold air, feeling how the slight wind nipped his nose and cheeks. The night was beautiful. A light snowfall had started. People skated all around them, laughing and conversing without care. The world around them was lit up with twinkling Christmas lights, bright, warm lanterns, and the harsher lights of the skyscrapers they were surrounded by. The bare trees were covered in a thin layer of snow. With the gleaming lights, they almost looked as though they were glowing.

Harry looked over to Peter, who's head was tilted towards the sky, mouth open as he blew out experimental breaths of foggy air.

"Yeah. It really does." The usually cold teenager's heart felt full. He decided to file this memory away forever, ignoring the churning guilt in his stomach.

When they eventually got back home, though it was late and they all ached, the Avengers & Co decided to watch The Grinch. Apparently, it was a tradition in Harley's family to watch the original Grinch movie every Christmas Eve.

They snuggled up once more, hands numb and faces frozen from the cold. Bundled up in blankets, they fell asleep one by one. Some made it up to their beds. Others helped the ones who had fallen asleep in the living room and carried them up.

Peter, who was purring loudly into Bucky's side, was very much asleep.

Before moving him to his room, Bucky took a moment to appreciate the flushed cheeks, rosy nose, and delicate features of the teen in front of him. His hair was always so soft and curly. Bucky was often disappointed when he gelled it for school. But at the same time, it was nice to be one of the few people who got to see just how curly his hair could be.

Bucky brought the purring boy to his chest, lifting him up with ease and quietly exiting the room. He bid the few remaining people a soft 'goodnight' before completely disappearing into the darkness of the hall.

As he laid his Spider gent–– wait. Woah, woah, woah. His Spider. _His._ No, not his. Not his Spider. Spider. Just Spider. Bucky shook his head and almost smacked himself in the face. _Where the hell did I get that idea from?_ Blood rushed to his face and his heart sped up, but he ignored it.

He said a goodnight that was never heard and hesitantly left the room.

Peter woke up to Harley's very loud and very annoying voice.

He groaned, which only seemed to fuel Harley's excitement.

"What?" Parker asked with some bite, not at all deterring the older boy.

"Peter, it's Christmas! It's Christmas!" He cheered giddily, tearing back the blankets that were providing what little warmth they could offer a cold spider.

"Wha– oh." The younger's face lit up and he looked around wildly. A foot of snow covered the ground with more on its way. The clock said 7:47 AM. The Christmas decorum twinkled brightly outside. And one excited seventeen year-old was practically vibrating in front of him. A slow smile spread onto his face. "It's Christmas." He breathed. "Oh my God."

"Come on! Hurry up, most people are awake already!" Harley called as he skidded out of the room and fell from earshot.

Spider clambered out of bed, tugging on a sweatshirt that was Bucky's––who refused its return time and time again until Peter gave up and kept it––and the thickest socks he could find.

Bounding down the steps four at a time, Peter's eyes landed on a good half of the Avengers. Some––the younger ones––looked wide awake while the others were still bleary-eyed and waking up.

After lots of racket, insisting, and enthusiasm from the teens, everyone was eventually gathered in the living room. While that was happening, Peter looked at the gifts underneath the giant tree in awe. He had seen the steady increase of gifts in the past month. Around five being added each week. But today it looked like it doubled the size.

"Маленький паук?" Natasha called softly, knowing the teen could hear her even when he didn't turn around. "We're gonna start now."

"Mhm." Peter hummed, smiling gently, and gradually sitting down beside Soldier.

The first gift was handed to him by Bucky. "You get the honours of first gift."

"O-oh. Mkay." Peter read the label. _To: Peter, From: Harley_.

He opened it up and a few things fell out, along with a note.

_Peter,_

_I saw you eyeing these in the shop the other day. Hope you like them._

_Oh and the gloves are for your patrols._

Lots of those hand warming packets filled Peter's lap, plus an interesting-looking pair of gloves.

"For patrol?"

Harley smiled. "Yeah I modified them a bit so you can still stick to things, but they've got little warmers in them. You gotta keep your hands warm when you swing around somehow."

Peter beamed and leaned over to hug his friend. "Thank you."

Gifts were passed around, each person getting at the very least three things.

Shuri laughed when she opened up a box containing a shirt with the Kermit Kermits suicide vine printed on it. Peter giggled at her thanks and they proceeded to quote some vines together.

Steve chuckled when Sam opened up his gift–– an ugly Christmas sweater with cute little 8-bit pigeons on them, along with bits of white design that were supposed to be bird crap. In 'melting' white letters, it read 'Have a merry shittin' Christmas'. Sam was torn between laughing and punching his friend.

Natasha was elated when he gift from Bruce was a painting she had seen in a museum a while back. She had stood standing in front of it for a while, admiring how intricate the dark and mysterious woods were. The detail of the shadows and the eyes in the trees were amazing.

Eventually, it was Peter's turn for his final gift.

He read the tag. _To: Peter, From: Steve & Tony_

It was a large box with cute little reindeer on it and he had to kneel to get around it. Tearing off the paper, he found that whatever it was was inside an amazon package. With the help of scissors, he got through the tough tape and opened it up.

Inside were a few different boxes.

A microphone, a stand, a soundboard, a nice monitor and computer, and some other pieces of equipment.

"Wait..." Peter said as he began to realize what this stuff was. "Wait. No. You didn't! You– You actually...?" The teen gaped in disbelief, opening the microphone to check that it was indeed real.

It was.

"Pinch me. No way." Spider breathed out at the fancy mic he was holding. His wide eyes wandered up to Steve and Tony's proud, grinning faces.

The boy launched himself into their arms.

"Thank you. Thank you. _Thank you._ " He squealed.

"I don't get it, can someone fill me in?" Clint asked. He wasn't the only confused person.

"Peter came to us a week or two ago and said he wanted to sing for people. He was so excited. We didn't want to make him wait." Steve explained as the boy he was referring to was opening all the individual packages with determination in his eyes.

In fact, he was so determined that he was fumbling too much to even get them open.

"Peter– Peter, let me see." Bucky gently reached over.

"No." Peter pouted in a small voice, chin jutting out stubbornly as he kept fumbling with the monitor's box.

Barnes rubbed his thigh soothingly, suspecting something was up the moment the boy couldn't open the package right. Peter fumbles with things lots, yes, but this long? Never. And that voice of his sounded different too. Younger, even. "It's okay, I just want to help you open it."

Peter reluctantly handed it over, crossing his arms but overall being grateful towards the man. Once it was open, he scrambled to get it back, staring wondrously at how sleek it was. Bucky chuckled softly at the teen's antics.

Peter yawned, nuzzling into Natasha's side. Her well-manicured fingers were drawing light circles in his hair, eliciting quiet purrs. The old Rudolph movie was playing on the TV, filling the room with its story.

Wrapping paper was strewn across the floor as nobody cared to pick it up. Tanya was skittering around, batting at all the colourful bits of paper and pouncing on ribbons. The sound of brunch sizzled from behind them in the kitchen, low voices chattering about what to mix with what. Wind whistled outside, blowing around the lightly falling snow. The warm smell of the hot chocolate on the coffee table wafted around the room. Small conversations and talks about gifts were drowned out by the TV.

An odd warmth blossomed in Peter's chest. It filled him to the brim like a cup about to overflow. His limbs felt like lead, yet were so light at the same time. His Sense was completely silent, and so were the two voices in his head.

Peter nearly ached.

But why? Was it joy? Contentment? Familiarity? Love?

He had no idea, but he wished the feeling would last forever.

Somewhere else in New York...

The younger man threw his whiskey-filled glass against the wall, enjoying listening to it shatter. It didn't soothe his anger for long though.

_Trrrring. Trrrrring. Trrrrring. Trrr–_

He accepted the call, watching as the screen next to him became a little less dark and an inky figure was barely distinguishable.

"Can't even give me a break on Christmas, huh?"

" _You're slow_." The deeper, accented voice said with a snarl.

He gripped his new glass harder, refusing to look at the screen. "I'm doing the best I can."

" _No. You're stalling for time, is what you're doing._ "

"So what? Huh?" A spark of rebellion ignited in his slightly intoxicated head. "What are you gonna do? Face it. You need me! _You_ need _me._ You can't––" He broke off laughing maniacally, though he was terrified of the man he spoke to.

" _You're a coward._ " The gravelly-voiced man said simply. There was a calm before the storm. _"I give you time. I give you weapons. I give you the Lizard. And for what? You can't even bring him to us in six months. Pathetic._ " He scoffed.

The younger man stilled nervously.

" _Don't tell me you're actually attached._ "

No reply came for a few seconds.

"H-he's my best friend." He gulped, voice cracking. Why was his throat so suddenly dry? _I'm not tipsy enough for this_.

A long string of infuriated curses came from the other side.

" _You will bring me Peter Parker whether you like it or not, boy. Or maybe you'd like to be a part of some of our new experiments?_ "

"N-no, Sir."

" _Good._ "

The screen went black.

The younger man collapsed onto his knees, clutching his stomach and sobbing. Through his wretches and pitiful cries, all could be heard was,

"I'm sorry, Peter. _I'm so goddamn sorry_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so yes, I should have probably used my five days off to write another chapter but did I do that? ...no, I did not do that. I used them to prepare as much as possible for having to do only science and math for two months in arguably the worst time of year (Christmas stress, yay).
> 
> Did I randomly watch 'Let it grow' from the Lorax on repeat to procrastinate from this? Maybe. Do I regret it? Very much so.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, entities,
> 
> ~Swindle <3


	40. Ch 39-There's an old sheriff no longer in town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a pretty rough night but he finds companionship in a new voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: some mild swearing (I use more bad words in this chapter but not much), some blood/injury, character death (not major character, dw)
> 
> This is also decently unedited mostly cuz I just want to get content out for y'all so tell me if I make mistakes please :)

**3rd POV**

The break flew by faster than expected and Peter managed to get his life more in order.

Though he was still wary of the glances he got from Steve, Tony, Bucky, Bruce, and now Natasha and Dorothy. They'd quickly figured out that something is wrong with Peter and even though they never discussed it aloud, he knew they had mutual knowledge of whatever was happening.

 _Especially_ Dorothy, as she was a former psychologist and was probably analyzing the hell out of him whenever something was slightly off.

(He caught glimpses of the way she looked at him, eyes curious and calculating, but not cold. Moments where she thought he wouldn't notice.

He did.

He always did).

He simply shrugged their gazes off and kept his eyes forward, continuing to do whatever he was doing. 

The two voices in his head, especially the HYDRA one, still didn't want him to talk to anyone. The HYDRA one was already pissed enough that he told Bucky (the backlash gave him headaches). He wouldn't risk telling someone else.

 _It's fine,_ he told himself through the pounding headaches, confusion from gaps in his memory, and harshness of the HYDRA voice.

_I'm fine._

Peter's Spidey Sense had been pounding in his head for the past week. It had slowly began to build up but was now just a continuous sledgehammer of pain in the nape of his neck.

Something big was going to happen. Something terrible. But he didn't know when or what would happen.

Right now, Parker was patrolling the streets of Manhattan. He decided not to go as far as Queens today because his Sense was telling him to _Stay close to home. Stay. Stay. Stay._

He strolled aimlessly through some less busy parts of town, feeling too tired and too cold to swing around high up with the skyscrapers. (Besides, he had a few injuries from a bad encounter with some armed robbers and his joints felt too sore to do anything physical. Call him lazy, he doesn't care). It was a crisp, barely below freezing night and a fresh couple centimeters of snow had fallen earlier that day.

Approaching a quiet intersection in a dead street, Peter heard a gurgling noise. It sounded like water rushing and splashing against stone.

He was suddenly reminded of his fight with the Lizard in the sewers. How the rushing water had deafened his ears and rendered him nearly unable to discern whether or not the mutant was nearing. How the water swallowed him up, filling his lungs until they burned, and spat him out at a disgusting sewage plant. How _slippery_ things were and how powerless he felt when he couldn't stick to things like he wanted to.

Peter shuddered, not just from the cold, and stopped in his tracks.

The _sewers!_

That's it! That's where Dr. Connors will be if he's planning anything, right? He can't do anything in Oscorp, otherwise he'll be found out. But he can do what he wants in the _sewers!_

Spider-Man rushed over to the nearest grate, beaming and internally congratulating himself on coming to this realization. He slipped down into the god-awful underground, shivering violently every few seconds, and hurried through the tunnels.

The teen desperately ran around trying to find something–– _anything_ that could point him in the right direction.

He was about to kick the wall in frustration when he saw a little green lizard skittering down a tunnel. The same kind of lizard that was there before Connors attacked him.

Grinning madly, he followed.

They travelled deep into the heart of the sewage system. Peter had absolutely no clue where he was at that point. Endless cars passed above them and buses honked, so he knew they were somewhere far busier than where he first got in.

A faint white-ish glow from up ahead gave him a spur of energy in his long search and he hurried forward.

Part of the tunnel was open to a decently large room where a make-shift lab had been installed. Trays, equipment, and machines sat on the edges of the room while a large desk with messily-stacked papers, a few computers, and a board sat in the center.

His eyes landed on empty syringes,––which made him flinch from bad memories––large black capsules with nothing in them, large claw marks on the walls like his scar, strange bottles of pills, and the open monitors on the desk.

There was a video loaded up and ready to be played.

Peter clicked the space bar and watched as an insane Dr. Connors explained that world can't be without weakness and that humans can never evolve stronger unless they take the Lizard formula stuff.

He watched the screen display his plan to distribute a toxic formula city-wide in the form of a gas. That way, nobody can resist turning into a lizard-person.

On another screen, the news was turned on. There, Peter listened to a reporter talk about Lizard sightings happening right now. The Lizard was making his way through traffic, flipping cars out of his way and roaring at the fleeing people. A glint of determination was set in his eyes and a sly smirk curled onto his slimy lips.

Horrified, something clicked together in Peter's mind.

This is what his Sense was warning him about. The Lizard was planning something, and he's gonna do it tonight.

He's gonna turn the city of New York into lizard-people _tonight._

Furiously, Peter flitted through the piles of papers on the desk, finding exactly what he needed in a matter of long, long minutes.

He called Gwen.

She picked up.

"I'm in the sewer tracking the Lizard. A lot of people are gonna get hurt tonight and we need an antidote." Parker prayed she was still at Oscorp doing her intern duties so she could do this for him. "Do you know how to run a serum?"

There was no hesitation in the answer and Gwen thankfully didn't ask any questions. _"Of course, I do it for Dr. Connors all the time."_

"Okay great." He breathed heavily, heart racing with anxiety. "You're in Oscorp right now, right?"

" _Yeah."_

"Fantastic. I need you to access the cross-species file. It's a blue serum." He could hear a pen scratching hastily against paper on the other end. "File 12389."

_"Okay, got it. I'll get to it straight away."_

Peter hung up, did a double-take on the papers and computer in front of him so he didn't forget anything, checked the news again for the Lizard's location, readjusted his backpack, turned around to go and––

Wait. Shit. What the hell was that?

In the darkness, where the light of the desk lamp and computer screens didn't hit, was a paper taped up on the board. Something looking like a piece of machinery was scribbled onto it, an angry black circled around it to point out its importance.

The Ganali device. The thing Connors had showed him one of the first times he went over to Oscorp. It's designed to release massive clouds of an antidote over a sick city. However, Dr. Connors is going to use it to create lizard people. And it's going to be tonight.

Terrified, Peter _bolted_. He ran as fast as possible through the sewers, feet barely touching the grimy ground. On a street he deemed fairly busy, he leapt up through the sewage grate and onto the sidewalk, wincing at the honking of the cars.

_**Dialling Girlfriend 💕....** _

"C'mon, c'mon, _pick up._ " He growled into his phone, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

" _Hi._ " Gwen breathlessly greeted, as though she had been running.

"Where are you?"

" _At Oscorp."_

Peter's gut sank and he spoke with a firm tone. "You have to get out there. Now."

_"The antidote is cooking, though."_

"No, no, no, no, no. Connors is coming to you right now. He's gonna use the Ganali device to infect the whole city. You gotta get out of there." He began to pace faster.

_"There's eight minutes left. It'll be fine."_

Peter let out a sharp curse in Russian. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He was trying to save her. "You're gonna wait there for eight minutes after what I just said? People are gonna _die,_ Gwen. You get out of there. Right now. Okay?"

_"I'll get everyone out."_

"Did you hear wh--"

The call clicked, signifying Gwen had hung up.

"Gwen!? _Gwen!?_ You mother-- are you serious?" Peter groaned loudly and muttered some very colourful words in a mix of languages.

 _ **She doesn't listen. She doesn't care**. _An intrusive voice muttered somewhere deep in his head.

 _Not right now._ He shot back, ignoring what it said.

Spider-Man jumped into the air and swung off in the direction of Oscorp, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. Police helicopters lit up the streets and buildings, obviously on the search for the 'vigilante'.

"Stand down now, or we will open fire." The voice of Captain Stacy announced from the closest chopper.

Peter kept running on the buildings, his mind everywhere at once. Officers were shooting at him but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. He let his Sense automatically move him out of the way of danger and cooked up a plan to keep the city safe.

Swinging around a corner, the bright white light of one of the helicopters blinded him momentarily. He panicked for a second, suddenly unable to discern where he was. _DANGER,_ his Sense screamed out, but to no avail.

A sharp, electrifying pain embedded itself in between his right ribs and he lost all grip on his webs. Peter fell down to the ground, immobile and dazed. His limp body crashed achingly against a taxi and tumbled onto the cold, wet pavement. The teen landed on his stomach surrounded by cars and harsh light. The only time he moved was when the buzzing of whatever had hit him jolted his body.

Through the ringing in his ears and spots in his blurry eyes, Peter could make out police officers dropping down around him. One came over and cuffed him, dragging him into a sitting position.

_Click clack._

_Click clack._

_Click clack._

**_What have you done this time?_ **

He never did like the sound of footsteps against the ground.

**_Maybe they're finally sending you back. You've seen the way they look at us. They know something is wrong. And they've figured it out, so guess what? Back to that hellhole we go!_ **

(He snarled internally, but didn't have enough energy to form a snappy comeback. Instead, he let the fear of those words wash over his body and crush his spirit).

A dark figure loomed over him and some part of Peter's mind wanted to cower. To give in. Just surrender and run away. It sounded an awful lot like the HYDRA voice. But less fierce and standoffish.

The stubborn part of him knew he had to keep fighting. To stay awake and stop the Lizard.

A large hand clasped his head, tugging at his mask.

 _Okay, this is a no-no._ His thoughts managed to process before the thing protecting his identity was no longer do its job.

Peter let out an unsteady exhale, not wanting things to come to this, and easily snapped the cuffs. He webbed up the guys around him successfully, leaving no time for them to see his face. That is, until he heard a gun click behind him.

"Freeze!" Captain Stacy shouted. "Down on the ground. With your hands behind your head."

The honey-eyed teen gritted his teeth and froze, just as instructed to. What the fuck is he supposed to do? He was running out of time _fast_. If he doesn't get a move on, Gwen will die and the whole city will get infected. Not to mention there's a gun pointing right at him and he might not make it to tomorrow.

Peter took a deep, controlled breath to clear his head.

What could he do?

 _ **Just kill him, that'll get the job done.** _A dark, joking chuckle came from within.

 _This is literally the worst time for you to decide to talk to me, you know._ He shot back as he went over his options. _Take note of your surroundings, Peter._

There was one helicopter above, illuminating himself and Captain Stacy. Most of the news helicopters were centered around the tower, but some were in his area and most definitely getting footage of him. Too far to hear talking, though. Any pedestrians in the area had fled thanks to the evacuation. There were a few city and shop cameras around, but those were all pretty shitty.

It doesn't matter, anyways. He can risk his identity to the world in order to save everybody. He could do that. Right?

Right.

Ever so slowly, making his movements foreseeable, Peter turned around to face the ignorant Captain. He allowed his head to raise, but kept his arms bordering the sides of his face so people couldn't see him.

Stacy sucked in a breath, face molding into something new for a brief moment. His gun lowered a few centimeters. "Parker."

"It's headed to Oscorp." Peter explained with urgency and distress clear in his voice. "And your daughter is there right now."

He got closer with gentle footsteps. There was hesitancy and and frustration in the Captain's eyes, unsure of what to do in this peculiar situation.

The teen's eyes pricked with tears. He was wasting time. _Wasting time._ If he could just hurry this whole thing up, he could save them. Save everyone. But he was stuck here with a conflicted Captain and a possible identity reveal.

Pretty shitty scenario in his opinion.

"You gotta let me go." He whispered desperately, picking his mask up off the ground and putting it back on.

When Stacy didn't stop him, he turned and ran, hopping up onto a car.

"Hold you fire!" The Captain called.

He heard it before he felt it.

The _crack BOOM_ of a gunshot rang in his ears.

And then the pain exploded in his leg.

Peter cried out in agony, tripping over himself onto the roof of a building. The bullet hadn't lodged in his leg, thank god, but blood was oozing out. He's been shot before and gone on with his missions, but previous injuries of the night just made this less bearable. Adrenaline kept the worse of it at bay, thankfully, so he webbed it up thoroughly and continued towards Oscorp.

The first thing he managed to do on the way over was crash into a building instead of landing on it because his leg didn't want to work. How the hell was he supposed to swing another, what, four blocks? Five blocks?

"Oh man." He huffed.

The teen scaled the building, every movement feeling like he was ripping his limbs off again and again. He could even hear the faint voices of news reporters recording him live. They didn't have faith him either.

 _How reassuring,_ he thought grumpily to himself.

He crashed into the sides of buildings, broke fire escapes, and shattered windows. It was probably the clumsiest swing of his life. Though his pride was just as bruised as his body, he had to keep going. He _had_ to. The only question, was how?

Peter clambered onto an apartment building directly in line of sight from Oscorp. Straight ahead. That's all it took. 

Easier said than done.

The superhero paused to prepare himself, however he noticed the tall, sturdy structures of cranes. Cranes that weren't there before. The giant machines slowly lined up along the road, all the way to his final destination. Their elevated arms would offer him easy and direct swinging access.

Peter made a mental note to thank whoever organized this when it's all over.

"Come on, Parker. You can do this." He psyched himself up, shaking his arms with as much gusto as he could muster. This may be an easier route, but doesn't mean it'll be much better on the limbs.

Overhead, a helicopter helpfully illuminated his route.

He takes a deep breath.

"You can do this."

And he runs.

It's a weak run and he limps while doing it, but it gets him forward. Not as forward as he had hoped, sadly.

His web misses the crane in front of him and he falls short, sent into a panic at the prospect of falling even further down to the ground yet again.

But he doesn't have to worry for long because another crane is there, lifting him up when he needs it the most. Peter exhales sharply and lets out a relieved cry.

From there, he can easily use each crane to swing his way over, shouting jovially and thanking the operators as he passes. Even though he's in agony, it's nice to feel the wind in his face (though masked) and see the bright lights of New York pass. It feels right, as it always does.

He stops on the final crane to take in the situation.

The Lizard had something strapped to his back––presumably the formula––and was climbing towards the very top of the tower.

Spider-Man bounds his way up, launching himself through the air with his webs, and sails towards the mini dinosaur.

 _"Initiating Ganali Device. Detonation in T-minus two minutes."_ Peter hears from up ahead, gaze landing on a glowing green machine. The Lizard stands right beside it, not seeing him.

Using the element of surprise, he barrels into the scaly thing and throws him off the platform onto the roof of the building. The Lizard roars all the way down, twisting through the air as they crash into a huge lamp-thing.

There's a screech of pain and fumbling around from the beast beside him, so Peter uses that as a distraction. He clambers quickly towards the tower in a daring attempt to get to the device, but he's swatted back down by a familiar set of claws. Those claws hurl him over the edge of the building with a triumphant shout. Spider-Man is much too quick though and he gets back to the roof in less than ten seconds.

They continue battling, Peter trying to get to the top only to be thrown back down again. Pieces of metal and machinery are flung off the edge and a silent prayer goes out to the cops below them.

Peter eventually gets caught and the Lizard's tail wraps fatally around his throat, forcing the air from him. The teen gasps and chokes, watching helplessly as both his web shooters are crushed by a pair of strong hands.

Before he knows it, his mask is being ripped off, revealing his cherry-red face.

"Poor Peter Parker." Dr. Connors snarls.

**_You could melt his face off right now._ **

_No, actually, I fucking can't because I can't aim with a tail around my neck!_

"No mother, no father..."

Why was the first thing that came to his head Mr. Stark?

No, he's right, he doesn't have a dad.

 _ **Poor Peter.** _The voices teases gently, not overstepping boundaries and being surprising soft.

"...All alone."

Peter's vision is blurred with colourful spots.

A gun cocks.

"He's not alone." The voice of Captain Stacy states in a defiant tone.

**_This just got interesting._ **

Peter's incapable of making any expressions other than pained, but he's internally grinning with glee. _Backup!_ _Wait. This isn't a good thing. WaIT–– No, no this is bad. This is very really bad. He's gonna get himself killed. Why is he here???_

The Lizard roars at the officer, baring his teeth. Stacy fires three gunshots, but not at the beast. He fires towards a few pipes that break, releasing gas to distract Connors and let go of Peter.

Peter grabs hold of the pipe––which is apparently spraying liquid nitrogen––and wields it at the overgrown lizard and rendering him immobile for a few seconds at a time. He takes the time to gasp in lungful after lungful of cold air.

 _"Detonation in T-minus forty-five seconds."_ The machine warns them calmly.

 _Shit, what can I do?_ The teen's eyes scan the rooftop for anything to stop the Lizard. There's nothing large enough that could knock him out for long enough. There's no more liquid nitrogen either.

He finds a fairly deep pit with nothing valuable in it. _Not sure why that's there but thank gosh it is. This could work._

Peter throws the pipe into the pit and launches the Lizard in right after, leaving him to freeze up in the cold chamber.

Captain Stacy carefully walks towards the screeching beast while firing his gun. He takes something from his pocket and hands it to Peter. "Gift from Gwen."

Peter eyes the formula, then the officer. Can he really leave him here? He doesn't have the same strength or agility or senses or–

"I got this, Peter." Stacy reassures as though he can read his mind. "Go!"

 _"T-minus thirty seconds."_ He hears the machine chime on his way up.

Peter is too busy climbing to notice when the gunshots cease.

_"T-minus ten seconds."_

He's too busy worrying about the time running out to notice when claws rip through flesh.

_"Nine..."_

He's too busy wondering if he'll make it to notice when a body falls to the floor, bleeding out.

_"...eight..."_

However he is not too busy to notice a beast clawing its way back up to him.

_"...seven, six..."_

The Lizard surges up to reach him.

_"...five, four..."_

He manages to switch out the capsules.

_"...three..."_

Claws dig into his heel and he's abruptly dragged downwards. 

_"...two..."_

His hand catches on the rail and he barely manages to watch when the green light turns to blue with the new serum.

_"...one. Launching now."_

A blast ricochets in his ears and the serum is sent off, exploding over the city in a bright electric blue cloud. It melts down to the city like a glowing waterfall made of shooting stars.

 _It's beautiful,_ Peter muses in wonder. The scene is oddly dazzling in contrast to the current unpleasant events.

A pitiful wail breaks him out of his trance and his head whips down to watch a transforming Dr. Connors let go of him. He falls, now-human body thudding against the hard roof and falling unconscious.

Suddenly, from underneath him, the thin tower creaks and crumbles. It had apparently been clawed one too many times because it began to break. The metal snapped and slowly started its descent towards the ground.

_Oh shit._

_**'Oh shit', indeed.** _

_Shut up._

Peter scurried to web it up, but remembered _Ah fuck, he destroyed my web shooters and my wrists are covered._

He couldn't grab it in time or make it to the ground.

The only option here was to let it fall.

He sat, tensely praying that the officers below could get out of the way on time.

"Watch out, kid." A voice sounding suspiciously like Mr. Stark called out, followed by a whirring speeding past him.

Ironman dove down and held onto the tower, easing its descent so it touched the ground gently. 

Peter's eyes lit up, fist shooting into the air, and he whooped loudly. "Thanks, Mr. St– Ironman!"

As he watched people from far below move away, cheering for Ironman, he heard a trembling voice behind him.

"The C-Captain." Dr. Connors wheezed out through laboured breaths.

_Fuck._

"Captain!" He hollered, tripping over his own feet to get across the roof. Peter skidded to a stop where the man was sitting up against a large pipe, breaths shuddering. His stomach churned and his gut shrivelled when he saw bloodstains had almost completely taken over his white shirt. There was a giant tear in his suit and it looked as though the Lizard had ripped through his body.

Captain Stacy was staying alive on willpower alone.

Peter's voice came out much smaller this time when he repeated. "C-Captain?"

"The Lizard." Stacy exhaled in a strained fashion.

"It's okay, we stopped him." Peter whispered gently, eyes shining with tears that were threatening to spill. _We can save him, we can save him, we can save him––_ he chanted to himself.

For once, the voice didn't speak up.

Stacy grunted in acknowledgement and the vigilante moved to help him get up. "Let's get you out of here. C'mon."

He tried to pick him up, but the officer kept wincing and hissing from pain, so he reluctantly let him be.

_No, no, no. We can't–– This–– He can't die. He's not gonna–– Right?_

And for once, Peter wish the voice did speak up.

"Okay, okay." The teen sucked in abruptly, swallowing down bile. "Look at me." He ordered softly. When the Captain's eyes began to drift shut, he spoke firmly, fiercely. "Stay with me. Help's on the way, okay?"

"You need to... to be gone when they– they get here."

A tear slipped down. "I'm not going anywhere." His voice was thick and he couldn't stop the way it trembled and broke.

"I was wrong about you, Peter."

 _This is a terrible time to say that._ He joked internally to try and relieve some of the pain.

"The city needs you." The dy–– man continued. A wobbly hand raised, red mask in its bloody grasp. "Here. You're gonna–" A fit of coughing overtook him and blood splattered from his mouth.

"Please–" _Hold on. Just a little longer, please. I can hear ambulances below, you're gonna be okay. Please–_

"You're gonna make enemies. People 'll get hurt. People close to you. So I want you to promise me one thing, Peter."

Peter nodded hastily, wiping away tears. "Anything, sir."

There was a pause. "Leave. Gwen. Out of it." It was firm and by no means disputable. "Promise me that."

Spider-Man sagged just a little, gaze dropping to the ground. _Leave Gwen out of it? That's what I've been trying to do. That's what I tried to do today and when the Lizard attacked the school. She just doesn't back down. I– How do I––?_

"You promise me?"

He shuddered and dipped his head, whispering. "I promise"

With that, Captain Stacy close his eyes and let out a breath one last time.

Peter sat there, staring at the warm corpse in his grip. Denial clung to his brain stubbornly and refused to let him believe in the truth. "No..."

The teen couldn't bring himself to scream or cry or break anything in that moment.

He merely slumped, failure blaring loud in his mind.

_He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. He– He... Gwen just– Her dad is dead. Oh God no. No, please. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna say? How do I..._

It could be seconds, or it could be minutes, but Peter doesn't know how long he sat there in that pool of blood. The thing that snapped him back into reality was the sound of footsteps thundering up the building's stairs.

Parker slipped his mask back on as the rooftop doors were thrown open.

He didn't hear the police drag Dr. Connors away. He didn't hear paramedics rush to Captain Stacy. He didn't hear the whirling of wind from the helicopters or the annoying voices of the news reporters that occupied them.

He didn't feel when wind nipped at his face as he numbly swung away. Quite frankly, Peter didn't even know where he was swinging. Just that it was away. _Away. Away. Away,_ His head screamed.

He felt less in control of his body as the minutes went by. Similar to when the HYDRA voice pushed through, but that voice wasn't taking control. No, another presence was. An unknown one.

 _Take a biiiigggggg breath!_ The childish voice––whom he hadn't talked with much since it had appeared a month ago––instructed, giggling lightly. _Suave's coming to the rescue! Like a superhero!_

 _Suave?_ He barely echoed in return.

 _He's gonna make it better._ There was safety in those innocent words and tone that Peter wanted to drown in.

 _ **{It's gonna be okay, Peter. I'm in control now. You don't have to worry. I'm here to help you. Just take a deep breath and try your best to relax.}** _The new presence spoke and their voice felt warm like dripping wax.

From there, he doesn't remember much.

If you asked him what he talked about with the Avengers when he got home, he'd ask 'I talked with them?' Or if you asked what he heard on the news that night, he'd reply 'News? I never watched the news?'

All he remembered was suddenly getting into the shower, replacing the newly put-on bandages on his body, changing into some warm clothes, and curling up with Bucky. (For some reason, he'd felt better when he 'woke up' than when he 'went to sleep'. Like he'd released a good amount of grief and anger). 

Bucky had carded his fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of consolation in Russian. The sound of sweet 1920s tunes playing on his record player floated aloofly around the room.

When Peter's weak sobs were beginning to drift him into unconsciousness, he'd spoken between sniffles. " _Soldier?_ "

" _Yes, little spider?_ " Bucky had rumbled. Peter always did enjoy hearing him speak Russian more than English.

" _You're not gonna leave me, are you? You'll stay with me 'till I wake up, right?_ "

" _Even longer._ " The man had assured warmly." _I'd never leave you._ "

Peter let himself truly relax the first time that night, and he welcomed the pull of darkness.

He wasn't awake to feel lips press gently against his temple.

Peter took the rest of the week off in the Compound.

He hid in his room under mounds of blankets and in the same pair clothes that hadn't been washed in days. He didn't do much. Everything felt too bland. Too hollow. He gave up on watching the news the first day he spent home because all it ever covered was Captain Stacy's death. The only thing he could stand was the soft purring of the 1930s lounge music played on his record player.

Gwen had called and texted, trying to get a hold of him, but not as much as he had thought.

They were both mourning over the same thing. Just not in the same way.

Doesn't mean Peter didn't feel even shittier for not texting or calling her back.

Suave had been in his head a lot, cracking jokes that didn't push boundaries and chatting when the air felt too suffocating. Peter didn't really know who Suave was, but considering they were a light presence and they kept him away from feeling like emotions were too much, he easily began to trust them.

Suave was very happy, the doe-eyed teen had noticed. It was as though they weren't traumatized by the events of that night. Or by any events, really. They were just carefree, and loud, and everything Peter would normally push away in this situation but instead he welcomed it. There was a warmth to their laugh and constant, unwavering companionship that the teen couldn't bring himself to get snappy at.

_Suave? Are you there?_

_**{'Course I am!}** _There was a cheery grin to their voice that Peter swore he saw in his mind. **_{What's up, man?}_**

_Who are you?_

For the first time since they showed up, Suave didn't immediately answer.

 _{I'm a friend. I'm here to help you and the rest of us in any way I can.}_ They replied carefully, forcing an easy tone to their voice.

_By 'the rest of us' you mean the other two? The HYDRA voice and the kid?_

**{If that's what you call them, then yeah.}** There was an amused snort.

 _What? They've got names?_ Peter's eyes widened. They have names!? _What_!?

No reply.

_Suave?_

_**{I'm here, sorry.}** _A forced laugh echoed in his head.

 _Can I know anything about you guys? It kinda sucks just having random voices pop up in your head sometimes for no reason._ The curly-haired teen brought his knees up tighter under his chin. _Are you just a voice or is there more to you? Because sometimes I feel like I can almost see you._

_**{What do you think I look like?}** _

Peter huffed in annoyance. His main questions were not being answered. _I swear your hair is black and I feel like you have a stupid smirk on your face all the time like Harley._ A small laugh escaped his lips.

 _ **{Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!}** _Suave replied excitedly. **_{You're right! My hair is an absolutely gorgeous shade of black. And okay, maybe I_ do _smirk just a little.}_**

Peter laughed louder this time. _And the others? What are they like?_

**_{You'll have to ask them yourself.}_ **

_Hmph, fine. What about pronouns? Or a gender? You have those, right?_

_**{I do!}** _There was a stream of giggles sounding quite high-pitched for Suave's normally semi-deep voice. **_{I'm genderfluid. Any pronouns are fine.}_**

_Sweet. I'm, uh, a cis boy, I guess? I think I'm bisexual but I don't really know for sure._

_{Good thing is, you've got plenty of time to figure it out.}_ A warm smile flooded his brain. **_{_ _You should go, Peter.}_**

 _What? Why? Don't leave me Suave, please._ God, he hated how pathetic those words sounded. But he really did need Suave's presence right now.

**_{I'll be here, don't you worry. But Wanda's been calling out to you for a while now, haven't you been hearing her?}_ **

_No? Wha–-_ Peter blinked a few times, his eyes shooting up to look at the door from where they were previously staring at a candle.

"–ter? _Peter?_ "

"What?" He cautiously met the gaze of Wanda, who was peeking through his door. The boy ignored the way his throat burned and stung like a bullet to the neck at that simple word.

"I've been calling you for a few minutes. I don't think you were asleep though–– your eyes were open."

_You're still there, right?_

He sucked in sharply and curled his toes to get some feeling back into them. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm, uh, here. Sorry."

**_{Yup!}_ **

"It's okay." The witch reassured. "Can I come in?"

_And you'll stay?_

"Mhm."

**_{'Course I will.}_ **

Wanda shuffled in and closed the door behind her, gently sitting down beside Peter. "Are you doing alright?"

Obviously, he wasn't, but they both understood what those words meant.

"Yeah. Good as I can be."

_Thank you._

Her slender hands tentatively reached out and wiped away his long-dried tears. "Dorothy just came over for dinner and to see how you're doing. Do you want to go take a shower?" She brushed a greasy curl out of his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. For some reason, Peter felt like he was going to cry. "You'll feel much better."

He made a soft noise of acknowledgement.

"We're all so worried about you, паук." Nobody had been allowed in his room unless to deliver meals. Not even Bucky got very far talking to him. "Even just come out for a few minutes to let us know you're alive. Or just say hello to Dorothy."

"Okay." He muttered in a thick voice. He was tired of sitting here all day anyways, stuck inside his own mind. His legs were numb and the world felt too fuzzy.

"'Okay'?" Wanda tried not to hide her excitement.

Peter let her help him stand up. He let her grab him lots of layers of clothing, turn on the shower for him, and kindly guide him to the bathroom.

The teen stood under the scalding water for a long time, revelling in the way he felt so much cleaner when the water rushed down, and eventually got out. He made sure his bandages were okay––Suave had told him they'd apparently been put on when he got home That Night––and tugged on soft clothes. When he exited the bathroom, the sheets from his bed had been stripped.

"Your sheets need to be washed." Wanda murmured helpfully and patiently walked to the kitchen with him.

"–alk about it with him when he's feeling better." Natasha's voice came from the couch.

"I think you're right." The voice of Dorothy replied with a sigh. Peter could see her hair peeking up from on the couch.

Bruce––who was standing talking to most of the Avengers––gently hit Tony on the arm before he could comment on the topic. Dr. Banner made a small gesture to where Wanda and Peter were just entering the common room.

"Peter." Dorothy turned to face him, eyes lighting up. She stepped forth and held her arms open for a hug.

"H-hey." His voice cracked pathetically and he felt his eyes well with tears again as he rushed into her grasp. "I'm _sorry._ " The teen sobbed into her shoulder.

"Shh. It's okay, it's okay." The lady rubbed circles into his back, holding him securely. "You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault."

"He's _g-gone._ A-and I couldn't d-do anything about it." Peter cried through lungfuls of air. "I shouldn't have left him with the L-Lizard all on his own."

Dorothy consoled him until he was able to calm down and collect himself.

"Sorry, I'm a bit of a mess." The curly-haired teen said through weak chuckles, wiping the last of his tears. His face was flushed and his eyes were red but nobody gave a shit.

Ms. Matthews smiled back, a kind twinkle in her eyes. "I don't expect you to be put together all the time."

Earlier...

"I don't know what was happening with him. It was like he was a different person." Bucky said, worry etched in his features.

"Yeah, he looked sorta unfazed by everything. Like Captain Stacy didn't just, well, kick the bucket." Tony added, dragging a thumb across his neck and peeking his tongue out of his mouth. "He barely even fought ol' Terminator here when he helped patch him up or when we forced him to go to sleep."

"It could've just been an act. With his history, it's likely he was triggered by an event or something and now things feel... off in his head for him." Steve speculated, waving his hand through the air noncommittally. "Maybe his walls came up a bit because of that fight. Slipped back to his old self, even."

"Maybe. I woulda noticed that though. He looked 'bout ready to cry when he came to see me after his shower so whatever it was, it changed when he was in the bathroom." Barnes pointed out.

Dorothy's lips pursed. "Did he say anything or do anything else out of the ordinary?"

"Not that I–" Steve began.

Natasha interrupted. "Yeah." With all eyes on her, she leaned back in her seat, elbows no longer on her knees. "For a second he looked like he was gonna say something after I just said his name. I remember calling him over saying 'Peter' and he paused. Like he was confused."

"He didn't say anything though?" Dorothy pressed.

"Nope. Just came over when I called, same blank look on his face."

"Shock?" Bruce suggested.

"No, this doesn't quite sound like shock." Dorothy shook her head.

Natasha sucked in a breath and turned towards the older lady. "Dorothy, you and Peter have a very different relationship than we do. He sees you more as an equal whereas he sees most of us as superiors. You're also the most qualified out of all of us to... deal with this. I'm not forcing you or anything, but I think you should have a talk about it with him when he's feeling better."

"I think you're right." Dorothy sighed, a wry smile stretched onto her lips.

Before anyone could say anything else, Bruce gestured that the topic of their talk in question had just entered the room.

_"One more chance, that's all you get."_ The man on the screen says, voice unnervingly calm after yelling for thirty minutes.

The young man downed his third glass of whiskey and sixth glass of whatever alcoholic drinks he's had in total. He swayed on his feet slightly, glad to have a buzz in his brain to distract from the sickening amount of disappointment directed at him.

 _"Did you even hear what I said?"_ The dark screen seethed in anger, accent thick with raw emotions.

"Yeah, yeah."

_"Excuse me?"_

"Yes, sir." He repeated louder while searching for more alcohol.

_"I've given you far too many chances. If you disappoint me with our next big plan, you know what'll happen."_

The younger's hand came up to his neck, scratching at an ever-expanding patch of dead skin growing on his back.

 _"Well, not if your disease finishes you off first."_ There came a chuckle through the static and the younger man couldn't help but scowl at the floor.

"Is that it?"

The call was disconnected and he breathed a sigh of relief, stumbling into a seat that overlooked the bright city of New York. His head was tilted back to stare at the ceiling. Mindless thoughts absently drifted to the roof of the building he was in––the one he owned––and the cost of repair after the night's earlier events.

"I don't know how to do this." The young man admitted in a whisper to the quiet room. His fingers traced the rim of his glass. "I don't know how to keep him off of you. I thought the Lizard would surely kill you already. I thought you'd be gone and I just wouldn't have to look at you anymore. Worry about you anymore."

A plane soared overhead and the world felt so, so quiet up in his tower.

"I thought it'd work. I don't want to do this. I'm sorry, Peter. I don't want to go back to school and see your stupid smile and your stupid contagious laugh and the way your eyes light up at every joke I make. Why me? Why did you have to get along with me? I'm no good for you." He kept on whispering, ranting, to himself to break the all-consuming silence of his life. Not even the alcohol could deafen these thoughts. "I'm just going to hurt you. I'll hurt the both of us. I don't want to see your face when you realize what's happening. That I was never your friend."

A single tear slipped down Harry Osborn's cheek that night as he mourned what would soon be the loss of his friendship with one Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, haha, hello?
> 
> I don't really have anything to say. (Wow, I was gone longer than before). Hope you enjoyed this chapter? My break was busy but now I've got more ideas in my head for where this story's gonna go so... pog :)
> 
> Stay safe my dear entities,
> 
> ~Swindle

**Author's Note:**

> ALSO I'd like to add the WinterSpider stuff comes later on. There are so many more events before that so please be patient and keep this in mind. Thank you <3


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